Escape the Storm
by Blissful-Web
Summary: Ichimaru Gin has never had a problem with his conscience. He knew exactly how to shut it up and keep it shut up. But what happens when it suddenly breaks free? As Gin starts having second thoughts on the betrayal, Aizen proposes a deal..involving Rangiku.
1. Escape the Storm

Escape the Storms - Chpt. 1

**Disclaimer: **Me no own Bleach. XP

A/N: The notion for this story is kind of a confusing one. I was talking to one of my friends on a forum when she suddenly produced the idea that Gin might have the widest range of emotions of the three traitors.

It started making sense after a while, when I suddenly remembered when Renji got his ass handed to him by Ichigo and how Byakuya basically went 'screw you' and abandoned him. Who's to know, lo and behold, _Gin _to the rescue! And then I realized the guy never did anything actually _evil. _Sure, he was suspected of it more than half of the time, but he never actually _did_ anything.

Not to mention, when all three of them were floating on those rocks, Aizen and Tousen were all '_we shall become justice!' _while Gin's last words were actually of apology to Rangiku.

So basically that's the theory that sprouted this story, and if you're still reading this I wish you enjoyment! Please drop a review after and let me know what you think!

* * *

**Escape the Storm**

Ichimaru Gin has never had a very active conscience. It was the very reason why he had never had much regret about his decisions. Whatever he did he blamed on survival instinct alone and that was simply enough to knock out his conscience cold.

On some dark nights, Gin can even convince himself that he simply wanted to survive, that he did what he did to _survive_.

Because if there's one thing Ichimaru Gin is absolutely _terrified_ of, no matter if he's afraid of nothing else, it was death.

He still remembers bits and pieces of his previous life. No, not really _life_, just his death.

_Something blurry and sharp that came sailing at him, sending pretty stars and vivid red into his eyes, _

_before he woke up, _

_sweaty and bruised on the barren land of Rukongai._

Even those few memories terrify him, because they symbolize the past that he's forgotten. A life that he can no longer recall. What he would give to escape death now, to resist the icy fingers that crush his neck and whisper that his time is up.

He knows better than most that life was as fleeting as scattered dandelion seeds. It sailed away before anyone could realize and if one reached out to grab it, it would only get crushed. Gin knows, he has seen. In fact, he has been the cause of it.

Only when the sword was poised at the throat and the fear blossoming in the prey's eyes did he remember that _he had the power._ He had the power to take away a life.

Gin's _terrified _that he'll lose this knowledge one day, that he'll lose this power.

On dark nights, he tells himself that he's _only _afraid of forgetting that one thing. Nothing else was ever included. He goes so far believing this that he dives into a plan of conspiracy and sin guiltlessly. He goes so far that he agrees to leave the only home he's ever known and giving up everything he has fought tooth and nail for.

He goes so far that he _almost_ succeeds in lying to himself.

Until suddenly _she _pops into his mind and refuses to leave thereafter.

His conscience finally wakes up again after years and years.

* * *

The clouds of dark purple gathered in clumps at the horizon as thunder rumbled in the distance, like a tiger warning for everyone to stay back. Gin catches the occasional flashes of blinding light among the purple, the patches of white lightening that were immediately consumed by the darkness.

Gin doesn't particularly like storms. They were so unnecessarily loud and had so much unnecessary power that it almost seemed to Gin like the storms were flaunting it at him. Telling him that _no matter how strong he got, there will always be others that are stronger._

'A stupid thought really, to feel inferior to a lil' storm,' he thinks and makes sure to mentally smack himself hard.

"Gin, if I had known you enjoyed storms so much, I would have postponed our meeting until tomorrow." A voice, soft, gentle and in every way ten times more dangerous than anything else Gin has ever heard.

Gin smiled, though it didn't really show since he's always smiling. He shifted in his seat to meet the mud-brown eyes of his captain. .

"I wouldn't really say I enjoy 'em, Aizen-taichou." He drawls back, saying out loud what he had just been thinking.

"Oh, well then, if you don't enjoy storms then what are you doing sitting at the open window?" Aizen sounds curious, but Gin knows he could care less. It's what intrigued Gin about the older man. No matter what words Aizen used, in the end they only served the purpose of probing further into souls, of discovering the many places in a human to manipulate, or the many weaknesses to destroy.

He only smiles wider and turns back toward the window, a slight breeze rippling through the opening and filling his nose with the scent of sand, mud, and approaching smoke. "You jus' have such pretty scenery around 'ere, Taichou."

It was the truth actually; Fifth Division was right by a lake with cherry blossoms trees hanging off the frame. During bursts of wind, the pink petals would even start pouring down on the division buildings. It was located in the prettiest place of all the other divisions.

A deep chuckle filled the air, "I thank you Gin, at this time of year there tend to be some rather lovely rain showers around here as well."

"It's _very _pretty." Gin said again, lying in the calm of the storm.

"It is."

"We're not pretty are we, taichou?" Gin asked, smiling lazily out at the swishing of the fragile blossoms.

Aizen smiles too, the warmly cruel one, the cruelly warm one.

"No Gin, we're not." The silence stretches its silver lines until Gin can almost feel its tangible presence in his hand.

"We are _beautiful_."

Gin almost lets the derisive snort escape him. "Thought you were gonna say that."

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

The dull sound slices through the tense yet familiar air around the two like knife in butter. Aizen glances at the door with a feigned good-natured exasperation, "There's no need to knock. How many times must I tell you this? We'll recognize your spirit pressure in an instant," he said toward the shogi screen, "Please come in, Kaname."

The fusuma door quietly slides open and the dark Ninth Division Captain steps into the room. The man gives a deep respectful bow to Aizen, so deep that his nose looks only a few feet from the very floor. "Aizen-sama, I sincerely apologize for being late. Hisagi had some paperwork that I had needed to sign and--"

Aizen held up his hand, still smiling benevolently. "It's quite alright, Kaname. In fact, I would prefer that you and Gin not come at the same time ever to my division. It would reduce the suspicion cast upon you two."

The man turns and starts walking to the right corner of the room, where a kotetsu was settled. "Please come sit, Kaname."

Tousen gave his ridiculous bow again. "Thank you, Aizen-sama." Tousen walks over to the table, passing by Gin without so much as a single word.

"What now, no kowtowing fo' me too?" he asked in a sing-song voice, he knew he wasn't suppose to provoke the man, but he couldn't help finding it irresistibly fun.

A small twitch appears for a second under Tousen's left eye, before he promptly ignores him and sits down stiffly on one of the pillows, his back rim-rod straight. Aizen follows, sitting across from him. He then turns toward Gin, "You too, Gin. Please come over here so we may start the meeting."

Gin shrugs, reluctantly leaving the window for his new seat next to Tousen. If possible, Tousen's back becomes even straighter. He grins, seeing a very obvious opportunity to annoy.

"Whoa, Tousen-san, if ya sit any straighter you're gonna break in half!"

The twitch becomes more prominent and Gin allows himself a mental pat on the back. Aizen sighs quietly from across them, doing his part of silent amusement. That was another thing that attracted Gin to Aizen was Aizen's curious tolerance and almost acceptance of his incompetent behavior. The first week that he had came under the man, Gin had went all out.

He pulled every trick out of the book, did every mischief that wouldn't get him resigned, annoyed the hell out of every person that he saw. Pretty soon, Gin had won the title of the 'Most Hated Person in Fifth Division.' And yet, the man did nothing to stop him. It almost frustrated him to some extent, because he wanted the swelling of anger in his veins, not a methodical compliance.

"Let us move on." Aizen cuts in before Tousen could take the chance to say something that would only increase Gin's ammunition against him, "It is time we decide what exactly we shall do once our dear young ryoka get here."

Gin could taste the cold amusement in Aizen's tone. In a surprising abruptness, the taste twisted from sweet to sour and almost makes him nauseous. A small frown starts rippling at the corner of his lip and his hand softly clenches around his stomach as he feels it roil.

"Impure beings should be erased without hesitation." Tousen spoke, blind eyes empty.

"That would make all this planning for naught, Kaname," Aizen gently injected, "We must leave them alive so they can keep everything preoccupied."

"I understand that Aizen-sama," Tousen answers quickly, "However they will, as you already know, come as a group. Surely, we can help cleanse the world of at least one of them. It might be rather unnecessary for all of the ryoka to remain wandering around Sereitei. They might even cause problems for you Aizen-sama."

Aizen prompts himself up on his elbows at the table, locking his fingers, Aizen stares hard into Tousen's milky eyes. Tousen stares back, empty, face calm, and probably only a little blinder than Aizen himself.

Gin watches the two, almost hearing the silent reasons, questions, and cryptic answers. Gin swallowed a humongous and half-dramatic sigh, as the familiar scene unfolds again before him. He can't help wondering what he was doing here in the first place, if all Aizen and Tousen were planning to do was sit around, stare at each other, and be boring.

Be boring…

Yes, that was it. He shouldn't be here, because it was _boring. _Gin never played third-wheel, especially not to some half-off their hangers, 'purify the world of evil' duo. _He shouldn't...he shouldn't be here..._

_He shouldn't be here, because it was boring._

The lie threads its web in his mind, digging into the crevices, and softening the edges of reality. Gin couldn't help but cling desperately to it. _He shouldn't be here... _

Unfortunately, the voice in his head is doing overtime today at its office in his brain. He can only lament as it bursts through his fragile prevarication like a fireball, and consumes his mind with rotten truth and unanswerable questions.

_What am I doing here? What am I doing here with these men? Why am I here with these cruel, blind men?_

Gin resists the urge to flop backwards and simply fold into himself on the floor. Slowly, without even really noticing, his finger raised to trace around his temple. The pounding was echoing in his ears, the words of the voice still forming on every pulsation.

_Why..._

It was pathetically painful; he couldn't help but try to avoid its sound.

_Am... _

The words showered on him like tiny little needles.

_I... _

Tiny enough that they slid through the very pores of his skin.

_Here? _

The needles flew inside his body, smashing open the forgotten doors of forgotten emotions. The emotions poured out, sending the feelings that he'd _thought _he left behind in that little shed in Rukongai, along with the maple-haired girl.

_Rangiku wouldn't like them, she wouldn't like these men, she would never like these cruel, blind men…_

Headaches had never been so common to him before. He only had the slight memory that his academy teacher use to have them all the time. She'd slouch down on her desk unnoticeably as the students did their work, her hands rubbing her temples, her forehead wrinkled with lines, and she kept staring at the table like she was hoping no one would ever see her again. To think he actually made fun of his teacher once or twice, because of that reason!

If the woman had still been alive, Gin would've been the most sympathetic person within the Court walls. He's never noticed a voice inside. He couldn't remember his head ever being so obnoxious, so loud and noisy.

_I'm here, because I belong here._ He says simply to shut it up, though a small part of him believes it to be true anyway.

_And Rangiku doesn't. _He added in, for no reason that he could understand.

"Alright then," Aizen suddenly said, his voice making Gin jerk sharply in surprise, "I suppose your logic seems adequate enough, Kaname."

Tousen bows again at his seat, "I am most grateful, Aizen-sama."

Gin's frown grows a little wider.

"Judging by the amount of assistance and guidance, Urahara Kisuke will provide them with, I suspect they'll be a group of six or seven. We shall dispose of three of them."

Gin ignores the flip-flop of his stomach, the screech of the voice and pulls on a pout before he can even properly think of what he was doing.

"Aww, they haven't even got 'ere yet, and we're already gonna kill 'em?" he asked, in the most disappointed voice he could make.

Both older men looked his way, one with a mildly curious expression, and the other with just barely concealed rage.

"What do you mean Gin?" Aizen asked serenely, "Is this plan not satisfactory to you?"

Gin shrugs, silently saying the appearance he wanted to himself.

_Slight jut of the lip, about an inch show of the pupils, a neutral expression with a bit of disappointment from the eyes…_

"It's jus' that, if we kill 'em right after they get 'ere it'll be kinda rude, y'know?"

"And since when have _you_ understood politeness so well?" Tousen mumbles a bit too loudly.

Gin ignored him, more pressed on winning Aizen's favor, "You should know that better than anyone, right Aizen-taichou?"

Aizen gazed at him steadily and Gin refused to break eye contact. Even with his eyes hidden, Gin still felt like the man could see into his soul. Another silence stretched inside the room.

"Gin, I'm rather surprised," Aizen said, finally breaking it, "I didn't know you valued their lives so highly."

Immediately, Gin felt a chill run down his spine. Forcing his face to keep calm, he replied airily, "Not really, it just won't be as much fun, is all."

He did a little celebration dance inside when he saw Aizen take the bait, an amused smile on Aizen's lips. The fifth division captain almost enjoyed playing with people as much as Gin himself did.

Tousen opened his mouth ready to say anything that came to mind to stop the ridiculousness he was being forced to watch. However, Aizen beat him to it.

"Ah, but Gin, enjoyable or otherwise, like Kaname has said, they could cause problems for the plan." Aizen said, face as smooth as a mirror, "We can't allow them to all be running around Sereitei."

Aizen gave him a benevolent look, just barely painted over the lethal suspicion underneath.

"_Does that upset you?"_

Gin cursed inwardly as Aizen revealed his own hand. He usually never underestimated people, but he found himself repeatedly making that error over Aizen_. _The man had never fallen for the bait to begin with.

He smiled wider, hoping against hope the strain of his muscles wasn't showing through, "It really doesn't bother me any. I was just sayin' it would be more fun with more people. You know that weird saying, 'The more the happier' or somethin' like that."

"The more the _merrier_." Tousen grumbled from the side.

Gin nodded, "Right."

Aizen nodded as well, "I understand that, but like I have already stated, we can't afford for them all to be scattered across Sereitei."

"That doesn't mean you have to kill them!"

Too late, he realizes what he's done wrong and for the first time since his first word into the argument, Gin wondered why exactly he was risking his ass for a bunch of stupid children he's never even met before.

He blamed the voice, which was suddenly traitorously quiet after his last sentence. The room was abruptly choked with tension, silence, and the invisible drips of reiatsu leaking from Tousen's angry form.

"_You,"_ Tousen finally says, fury reducing his voice to a quivering whisper, _"Are you intending to betray us?" _

There was no mercy in his filmed over glare.

For the first time in his life, the words die in Gin's throat. He was left speechless, and admittedly on the inside, shaking like a flimsy leaf.

Millions of emotions suddenly sped through Gin's mind, tangling within each other until they were all reduced to _I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die._

Gin's zero reply only fed fuel to the fire for Tousen, and the man was already getting up, his hand crawling towards the hilt of his sword.

"_ANSWER ME, YOU—"_

"Kaname."

The name was spoken softly, far below Tousen's bellow, and yet seemed to boom across the very walls. In some morbid part of his brain, that wasn't repeating the twisted mantra, wondered if Tousen would be killed along with him tonight.

Sluggishly, like his neck muscles were rusty hinges, Tousen turns around. A second later, Gin, not in the least bit prepared, dared to follow.

But Aizen wasn't looking at them.

He was instead, gazing outward at the open window that Gin had been leaning against before.

"I believe it is time for you to be on your way, Kaname. The storm is almost here." Aizen says calmly, not even close to asking. As if to assist his words, another blinding lightening flash and crackling thunder brushed the compound.

Gin forgets himself for an instant, and whirls toward the window. He had forgotten about the storm. But now that he remembered he just wanted to be on his own merry way even more.

Tousen gives Aizen an incredulous look and foolishly started, "Aizen-sama! Please allow me to dispose of this traitor first—"

"Kaname, it is best not to be caught in the middle of a storm," Aizen continued, voice dangerously thin.

Like time was suddenly in slow motion, Aizen turns around, his glasses glinted heavily in the moonlight that was still barely shining in the sky.

"_You could get injured."_ He said, spreading every word like poison, before looking up and staring right into Gin's eyes.

Gin felt his heart clenching vigorously in disgust-overridden fear. It wasn't often that Aizen let his mask fall off, seeing as he was suppose to play the priestly pious man that everyone went to with their problems.

Gin could tell right here, he could tell even long before, that Aizen didn't give a flying fuck about him, Tousen, or anyone else for that matter. Hell, if he hadn't managed to kill that third seat long before, he probably wouldn't even be alive right now.

_The man really was, as cruel as a god._

Tousen, to his credit, wisely gets the message, and purses his lips, said feature now a thin white line. He does his bow, short and blunt, not nearly as extravagant as before.

"Then I shall excuse myself."

Gin swore it took all his will power not to fling himself at the man and wail '_TAKE ME WITH YOU!' _at the top of his lungs.

Aizen doesn't acknowledge it, eyes only for Gin, and doesn't even notice when Tousen sends him another narrowed glare, before turning sharply and exiting through the door. The keen slide of the door was the only thing that filled the room following the man's departure.

For the longest of times, Aizen doesn't say anything, doesn't even move, and Gin has to wonder if he's even breathing.

Every muscle in his body is coiled and ready to strike out like snakes. His hand is itching for Shinsou's hilt, which lies closely next to his left leg. Gin wasn't one to think so arrogantly of himself, acting like that would've gotten his head lopped off within seconds in Rukongai, so he knew it would all be in wasted effort.

The man had already reached the limit of all fighting styles of shinigami and to top it off, had far more experience. It was almost common sense he wouldn't stand a chance against Aizen. But somewhere in his frantic brain, he was still thinking if he could only get in the first move, if he could only take the first attack…

_Why so silent now, huh? _He asks the voice darkly.

"Gin."

He's yanked from his mind so fast, his eyes snap open for the slice of a second. Crimson eyes collide with muddy ones in an enormous crash of the powerful and the powerless.

Then Gin closes his eyes, and it ends as soon as it begins.

Gin sends Aizen the fakest smile he has in his possession. "Yes? Gobantaichou-san?"

Aizen ignores the sudden formality, "You are beginning to have second thoughts of the plan." He didn't speak it like a question, more of a statement that he dared Gin to prove wrong.

Gin paused, the game suddenly being turned around to his disadvantage. And to think none of this would've even happened if he hadn't given in to an obsessive voice in his head. It did nothing to his opinion of doing what's easy instead of doing what's right.

Aizen, sensing Gin's hesitation, eased his lips into a deceptively trusting smile.

"It's alright to speak out, if you're starting to have some doubts. It's just me here after all."

_That's what I'm afraid of. _Gin thinks quietly to himself.

"They're just some stupid kids." he blurts out, his mouth ten times faster than his brain, "They probably don't even know how to walk without tripping."

His words are jumbling and he's still confused as to why he doesn't just shut up and go along with it already. Especially since the voice has finally clamped down and gave his mind some peace.

Something about killing the obnoxiously innocent children just felt so _wrong_. It was a strange discomfort that worked its way from his toes to map his body. It was mild, but in the annoying, can't-possibly-be-ignored kind of way.

"Regardless, they will be obstacles."

"Isn't that a bit ruthless?"

Aizen gives Gin a cold look, _"I am not bound by such things."_

"They don't even know what's really going on."

"_Gin_," Aizen says, disbelief tipped in his tone, "_No one _knows what's really going on."

Whether it's by stupidity, annoyance, or both, he still edges in the last word.

"You still don't have to kill them."

Now Aizen looks mildly affronted, and Gin can't even figure out what has made him so idiotically suicidal tonight.

"What has gotten into you Gin?" Aizen asked, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other, "You never gave the appearance of a highly moralistic person."

Gin bites his tongue to prevent a naturally sarcastic reply from coming out.

"What could've happened to cause such a thing?" Aizen continued, savage glee suddenly arising from under Aizen's irises.

"_Or should I say, __**who**__?"_

Gin's body goes cold. A sharp smile forms on his face, "Now, what are ya talkin' about Gobantaichou-san?"

Aizen's eyes glitter menacingly, "Oh, I believe you know exactly what I'm talking about, Sanbantaichou-san."

Unexplainably fast, Aizen is suddenly at his feet and it took everything Gin had not to grab wildly for his sword. Giving the impression that he was going to attack was pretty much suicidal right about now.

Aizen makes several steady steps toward him, the cloth of his black hakama brushing the wooden boards softly.

"Who could it be I wonder?"

_A step closer…_

"Kira-kun maybe?"

_Another step…_

"Or is it perhaps…"

_His white captain hoari is practically touching Gin's hair…_

"…a certain Tenth division lieutenant?"

Aizen stops barely two inches away from him. Gin has to try hard to keep his hands from clenching into fists.

"They've got nothing to do with this, Aizen-taichou." He whispers, staring straight ahead at the wall, though an edge is there that goes unmissed.

Aizen nods, "Yes, I agree with that." Then smiles, "But they have everything to do with _you _don't they?"

"Don't go near them." He says again, the anger burning over the icy fear from before. Gin didn't want this man near Rangiku _or _Kira.

Aizen chuckles, the barest hints of mockery concealed with the rich sound.

"I thought you were afraid of me."

He feels an eerie calm enveloping his body. It was a rather peculiar feeling like when he found himself scorching from the inside out and having a bucket of cool water dumped on you. The calm eased over his nerves and softened his fear enough that he's able to look up at his captain, two bloody pools opening silently.

"_I will __**never**__be afraid of you."_

"Of course not," the man agrees, and bends down to meet his stare head-on, _"But, you __**are **__afraid of what I'm capable of."_

The threat is as plain as day. _I can kill you if I wanted to._

This time the tension only stretches for a few seconds before Aizen abruptly pulls away. Gin eyes Aizen suspiciously for a moment, before letting his own eyes close.

"How about a deal, Gin?" Aizen suddenly asks with an unusual disinterest.

The question bounces off his head for a moment before actually sinking through. He pauses in his answer for a moment, wondering if it was some kind of trap, before realizing there was no real danger in the mere question.

His brain is suddenly screaming with his own questions, but he hastily pushes them aside.

"That really depends on what I get for doing it." He says ambiguously, because that was a typical Gin answer, not like he was being a very _typical _Gin lately.

But apparently, he had said something right because Aizen suddenly turned towards him and sent him a kind smile.

"I promise you, you will get a lot."

"Oh really?" he couldn't keep the sarcasm from slipping in.

Thankfully, Aizen ignored it, "I'm offering…" he takes his sweet time, and from Gin's point of view, might actually be pausing for dramatic effect.

"…_freedom from the plan."_

The new light air Gin had just adopted, immediately shattered as a heavy seriousness crushed him. Gin studied Aizen for a minute, silently daring for him to be joking. But Aizen never joked.

_He really meant it._

"The rules?" he asks after a moment.

"You just need that woman to hold one," Aizen replies, complete sincerity in his tone, "All she has to do is hold on and I shall order the Menos to call off the Negación over you."

Gin smirked harshly, "Now come on, Aizen-taichou, they'll only throw me into jail ta be executed fo' assisting ya anyway."

"You can tell them everything that has transpired between you and I." Aizen answered smoothly.

Gin's eyes widen, and he wonders again if Aizen really means it.

"You can even make up a story if you wished, tell them my goals, my reasons, _everything._ You can tell them anything if you wanted."

The idea was entirely seducing. _Anything_. He could tell them of anything this man before him has done.

_And all that had to happen, all that had to be done to win, was for Rangiku to…_

"And what if…" he takes a moment, a huge lump in his throat that won't go down, "I lose?"

Aizen's face twists horridly as the mask falls completely off.

"_Then your fate will be in my_ _hands alone."_

"Well then," Gin says, his tone thin and edged sharply, "Why in all nine circles of Hell would I wanna risk my ass just fo' them then?

Aizen sighs, like a parent trying to teach a child how to behave, "I do wish you would stop with the horrible act, Gin."

Gin gives him a blank look.

"It's as plain as day, though I'm not sure when it started," Aizen smiles in entirely unreal understanding, "_You've grown to love them_."

The room is suddenly too small for Gin to breathe properly in.

"_No," _he stutters, trying to regain himself, _"Taichou, I don't…"_

"It's such a shame really," Aizen interrupts, padding over again, "I thought if anybody, _you_ would never fall into love."

"_I don't love them."_ Gin whispers, and it sounds like a lie even to himself.

"Yes, I actually agree," Aizen nodded, and Gin feels a big solid hand land on his head, "It's not just them. _It's everything._" His fingers start weaving through Gin's silver hair.

Gin wants more than anything to rip those fingers away from him, look him in the eye, and say that he was wrong. But he can't even twitch his fingers and Aizen's hand suddenly feels like the heaviest anchor that's ever existed.

"_No…" _he manages to choke out, his throat suddenly burning and frozen all at once.

"You've come to love the city, you've come to love your position, _you've come to love the_ _people_," a smile warms slightly on Aizen's face as he disentangles his slender fingers from Gin's hair, "_You no longer want to hurt it."_

He can't answer.

He doesn't answer.

He can't think of any answer.

_He's wrong._

_He's wrong._

_He's wrong._

_He's wrong._

…

_But he's right._

The familiar voice pops out again.

Aizen smiles at the empty expression on his ex-lieutenant's face. He kneels down slightly, bending so his mouth is next to Gin's left ear.

"_Remember Gin, I am offering you it all back." _He whispers gently, his fingers now playing with the cloth at Gin's frozen neck.

"_I'm giving you refuge from the storm."_

Another loud crash of thunder shakes the very roots of the house, as if to put more emphasis on his words. Gin stared hard at a spot on the table, his hands too drained of their strength to even clench.

"I'll do it." He whispered, and doesn't even try to decipher the flutter in his stomach that goes along with it.

Aizen does nothing but smile.

"Excellent."

Without another word, Gin heaves to his feet, not even able to feel his legs as he does so. The smile is wiped clean from his face and his eyes are still open. Slowly, he turns toward the door, though Gin really wanted to just run far away and never come back.

Aizen watches him with a docile look, that seems every bit a part of him, and yet something completely foreign.

"Oh, and Gin," he called out again, just as his ex-lieutenant has reached the door, "Feel free to do what you'd like to the ryoka children."

Gin doesn't reply, and slides the door open without a second glance.

The soft pitter-patter of rain is finally heard as the door closes, but Gin never looked back.

With only maple hair and cerulean eyes in mind, he steps into the storm, pelted by the sky's tears.

* * *

**"Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices."**

**Alfred A. Montapert**


	2. The Words Unspoken

Escape the Storm – Chpt. 2

**Disclaimer****: **If I owned Bleach, I could stop Tite from constantly bastardizing Gin. :(

A/N: I would just like to let everyone know that this is a 'What If' story, that's centered around the fact that if Gin had a conscience speaking to him during the entire Soul Society Arc and if he had actually gotten the chance to leave Aizen and the plans.

It's pretty obvious that the Gin we all know and love would sadly never think these thoughts or ever get the chance he's being offered here. So if anyone is looking for a story that's strictly accurate in characterization, **turn back now!**

Otherwise, please enjoy and remember to always review after!!

(I have absolutely no clue what Shinso's spirit form is, so don't ask or bash me about it. Also, I put in a tiny hint of Rukia's arriving execution, try and see if you can find it!)

* * *

**The Words Unspoken**

The storm's tempo becomes faster and faster as the thunder's intervals come closer together. It's so hitched that he can almost feel it crackle like fireworks at his ear.

Gin pulled on a smile and trotted calmly forward. The wind whips ferociously at his sleeves and hakama. The thick cold seeps through the thin cloth like they are hole-infested rags. To be honest, it was the most uncomfortable feeling he's ever felt.

He may have had many things on his to-do list, but _getting caught walking in the middle of a thunderstorm _has not, and never will be, part of it.

Another lightening morphs his body into two-dimensional colors of black and white. The raindrops start falling harder and harder, till it's almost like the whole world is taking a shower.

They quickly soak through his silver hair enough that they are now simply hanging limply beside his face or plastered on his forehead. The locks are cold and soggy and feel extremely clammy on his skin.

Gin swiped at them with slight annoyance and tries to calculate the fastest way to get to the division house.

He could've just used shunpo across the roofs, which was almost as simple as breathing for a captain, but had the irritating little necessity that you actually had to see where you were going.

'Sploosh'

A curse almost slips pass his lips as he felt a sickening moisture at his hakama and sock. Gazing down his right leg, Gin roughly yanked out his foot that was trapped in the mud puddle and continued forward again, albeit now stomping grumpily as he went.

Between the heavy rain and blinding lightening, he couldn't even see the mud puddles lying in the grass. Shunpo was out of the question.

_Do you know what you look like, Gin? _

Shinso was cackling so loudly it almost drowned out the thunder. Gin could practically see the silver outline of the fox between the raindrops, the nine tails dangling lazily, its head up in the air, and the mouth thrown open, showing neat rows of pearly dagger teeth.

Gin ignored his zanpakuto as it floated like a ghost beside him.

Shinso was always watching every little move he took, every little choice he made. When he chose right, there was silence. But if he chose wrong…

_You look like trash, Gin. Like the first time I saw you._

Gin let the tilted harshness slide off his back like barb on water. He wasn't afraid of Shinso, didn't even mind him that much, and at times almost enjoyed his constant companion. Shinso was a part of him after all. Being afraid of his zanpakuto was like being afraid of himself.

And Gin wasn't afraid of himself…

…right?

_I leave you alone for a couple of years and look at where the hell you are now._

By simple instinct alone, Gin automatically gazed around at his destructive surroundings. _Caught in the middle of a storm._

He can feel the fur; _his fur_, bristle and sharpen into tiny little blades. It was a familiar anger that slowly seeped through the cracks, invaded his own veins, until Gin found his own fists clenched with anger.

_You stupid kid._

Gin refused to wince as a burst of pain shot out at his temple. The blades stab mercilessly at his mind as he stumbled in his steps across the muddy grass.

_What has gotten into you?_

His voice asked, suddenly calm, but still with an edge about it. Before Gin has the chance to answer, Shinso continues.

_You should've just agreed to the plan. You should've just apologized. You should've just __**stayed. fucking. silent**__._

Everything dies in Gin's throat and he wondered how in the world Shinso could want him to stay silent, when his head was so loud he couldn't even tell the difference.

_Even if you hadn't done that, you should've at least asked to stay the night, not go wandering around in circles during a storm. You should've just stayed, stupid child. You should just go back right now. _Shinso said, every word hissed between gleaming white daggers.

Gin's eyes open slightly at the thought of the warm and dry Fifth Division room, _with its Lie sitting and waiting at the kotatsu, smiling in expectance. _In another flash of lightening, the narrow strips of his crimson irises glint.

The image drove him to reply back for the first time.

"Quiet." His voice is not lost amongst the noise of the world around him, its dangerously soft tone momentarily slicing through the air.

Shinso is stunned into silence.

Gin smiled widely at that and kept walking. By now, his clothes were nothing more than soaked fabrics that he wasn't even sure two days of airing would fully dry. His captain haori had somehow stained with mud, obscuring the three kanji lines, and the rain--though had calmed a bit--was still pelting him relentlessly.

Yet now, even more than before, Gin refused to even lift up his hands to shield his head. It didn't matter if the very sky was falling anymore. He was _not _going back to that house with that man inside it.

At least, not now. Not after everything had suddenly spiraled from his control.

_You've damned yourself now, bastard._

Shinso bounced back into his steps and mind like a steel boomerang. The fox had a perpetual sneer on that wrinkled its slit eyes and narrow muzzle.

_Now I wonder, _he suddenly lowered into a hiss of complacence,_ if you're going to save them…_

…_who's going to save you?_

No answer comes to mind for Gin, because he didn't even know himself.

_Is it love? _ The beast suddenly demanded, his tone mocking, making Gin feel like he was swallowing his own medicine. _Do you think love is going to save you?_

_Do you think, even for a second, that once she learns, however little, that you're a traitor, she'll keep holding on because she __**loves **__you?_

A small mention of _her_ immediately tipped Gin over into a fountain of memories he could've sworn he'd let go of long before. Millions of memories flash before his eyes as he remembered all over again how bright her hair was, how soft her skin was, how _perfect _she was.

_Answer me, you fool. _Shinso snapped, and shattered his thoughts.

But Gin still couldn't reply with the answer he didn't know. A moment of silence passed by, where for the briefest of seconds Shinso's body coiled up and the vine-like muscles show through in warning under the silver fur. He gazed up at his partner with clenched teeth, glinting eyes chilled.

Gin refuses to meet the look, and smiles out into the dark path ahead of the rain, letting his own teeth gleam. They stay like that for a short eternity, thicker than blood, before a smirk lights up the fox's face like wild fire.

_You don't have to say it out loud for me to know. Everything's right there in your eyes, I guess that's why you like to hide them so much._

Shinso's slender body slacks and sends a ripple of cold across his skin. He starts disappearing bit and bit, much to Gin's secret relief.

_Gin. I'll tell you this now, so don't say I never warned you._

The apparition dissolved rapidly, until only the sharp grin remained.

_Love won't save you from death._

Inch by inch, the grin fades.

_Love won't save you from anything._

The night air immediately engulfs the broken fragments. In another blinding flash of lightening, the fox is entirely gone and Gin feels the weight of the sword once again on his hip. Left in solitude in the rain, he smiled hard and let the bladed words slowly slide off him.

He didn't want to be the hero of justice, or even a good person. Gin only wanted to live.

_He didn't want love. He didn't even want salvation._

_Lies, _the voice is repeating, almost manically, _lies, lies, lies, lies…_

Gin shoved hard at it until he was able to push it into a small insignificant corner of his mind. With a huge gulp of air, he swallowed the scent of destruction and power and lets it simmer at the base of his neck.

The rain splattered him like thin liquid spider webs, and roll down his skin in rivulets. Gin's mouth twitched as the icy water dripped down his chin and onto his neck.

Almost hesitantly, he looked up at the sky, the purple clouds reflecting with fervor off his crimson eyes. Standing there for a moment under the clouds, he lets himself get drenched.

In a slow, almost painful way, his smile softened—he's never missed this feeling so much in his life.

_The rain never ever tried to chain him down with its kisses. _

A sudden memory flashed through his mind of a small boy with identical silver hair, standing in solitude under the rain.

He used to love the rain so much when he was younger. They had been his only solace back then, on those rare times when things started getting too hard for him to handle.

Not hard as in, he stubbed his toe or cut himself while running through some dry branches. It was more like when he enjoyed the feeling of the thick sinking of blood sinking into the lines of his palm so much that it scared him. It was more like when the image of severed limbs and heads started turning into a hollow acceptance at the back of his fading memory.

He'd wished, even for the tiniest of moments, for something to fill the emptiness inside.

Then along came the rain, falling on him like tears. They seeped through his skin like wet kisses, wiped away the filth from his mind, washed away the invisible blood from his hands. How long he stood had never mattered, only until his stains had been washed away and he felt _clean_.

Until then, he wouldn't have minded standing in the rain forever.

The smile quivers slightly and loses its shape.

_Only when he felt clean._

Silently, Gin pushed himself back up to his feet. Now his socks are drenched as well and he absentmindedly thought that he might catch a cold. With the life of a dead man, he started trudging through the grass again.

It didn't matter if it rained every single night and every single day until the very world ended. The rain couldn't comfort him anymore with its cold, pointless kisses.

The rain could never wash him clean again.

Surprisingly, Gin felt nothing. He's been away from the comfort of the rain so long that he had almost forgotten that he'd ever found a home in it. He couldn't help but feel like it was a toy that he had easily outgrown.

The ground feels spongy underneath his feet as he continues walking, though he's not even sure where's he's going anymore. It felt like an hour had passed already since he'd first taken the step away from the Fifth Division.

_Where were the Third Division Houses again? The East? The West?_

His brain is unfairly sluggish as it tries to think up the answer. Gin frowned lightly, frustration clouding his mind.

_Oh yes, the North._

He grinned widely at his success in remembering.

_Where was he though?_

The frown returned as a more serious scowl. Gin glanced at the idle trees as he passed them, and swore he had just passed the same ones a few minutes before.

_Who was he kidding? Everything looked exactly the same!_

As he took a few more steps forward and saw the exact same trees five times over, Gin had only began wondering if he should just crash under one of them for the night, when something catches his eye.

It's faint, like the light of a firefly against the black of night, but it was definitely there. And as he squinted he could slowly make out the shape of a window.

Almost wilting from relief, Gin started a heavy sprint that if it had been anyone else but him doing it, would've ended with a face full of mud and dirt. His legs slid along the watery ground with ease and used the slippery grass to practically glide toward the tiny yellow square that stood out against the dark.

As he ran, he soon realized that his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him after all.

Gradually, he caught the outline of a triangular roof and the tiny lights increased in number. In his ear, the soft familiar patter of rain on grass slowly transformed into the dull pelting of cobblestone.

Gin took a moment to send a terse glare at the sidewalk. He really _had _been walking in circles. In his own garden too!

Completely disregarding the possibility there was even the slightest of chances that the building _wasn't _part ofhis division, Gin leapt his last few steps with a daring shunpo.

He landed on the wooden outer platform with the grace of a cat and doesn't really think of why the building didn't have an outer fusuma like every single one of his division barracks should have.

Gin can only think of how cold he feels, how frozen his limbs are, and how simply _happy _he would be if he had only some dry, warm clothes instead of his heavy, drenched ones.

The pleasant thought in mind, Gin finally ducked out of the rain and under the roof. Immediately, he started towards a window with the faint glow of orange bending through the cracks of the frame.

He was too annoyed and wet at the moment to really go find the proper way in. Gin figured he could just go through one of the shinigami's windows and head off through the inner hallway to his own lovely chambers.

Personal privacy could go to Hell for all he cared, and no one would dare question him anyway. He was their captain and he would go crawling through his subordinate's windows if he damn well felt like it!

Who knows? He might even be able to have the shinigami he intruded upon take pity on his soggy appearance and carry him to his room.

Without another second of hesitation, Gin threw open the window and lets it give a resilient 'bang' against the wall. With a single leap, he threw his legs over and landed inside. The water followed him on a string and rapidly formed a puddle on the floor at his feet.

Gin ignored it and waited patiently for a moment.

To his surprise, no loud shriek of terror or sword tip came bombarding him and he soon realized that the room was empty. Smiling happily at his luck, Gin had just started walking toward the fusuma that led to the inner hallway when he noticed three things.

One, there was an ambiguous pink scarf draped over the foot of the bed.

Two, there was a big kanji 'Ten' stamped on the ceiling of the—just observed—rather spacious room.

Three, a big blunt object was currently sailing toward his head at high velocity.

Natural instinct taking over, Gin twisted backwards at lightening speed before shooting back again like a weed. For a mere second, his right hand brushed against a slender arm of soft, firm skin. Quickly regaining his footing, he clasped his fingers down on the wrist.

The smile stretched across his face.

"You attackin' people with lamps now, Ran-chan?"

A small curse reached his ears, as he stared directly into the cerulean eyes of his old friend. She was wearing a pale yellow sleeping yukata, with the collar a _tad _too loose. Her adjutant badge was still tied on the white sash around her slender waist.

Rangiku stood glaring, the said piece of furniture still in its ready position. Sending Gin a glare that could've melted metal, she loosened her grip on her weapon.

"_What _are you doing here?" she whispered, outrage in every syllable of her words.

Gin sent her a hurt look, despite the voice screaming so hard from pleasure inside his head, he swore he almost heard a crack at the base of his skull.

"Ya mean you knew it was me and ya still tried ta attack me?"

Rangiku gave him an incredulous look.

"Someone comes crawling through my bedroom window _in the middle of the night_,_**soaking wet**__. _ What else was I going to do?"

Gin made a small frown, "Ya could've welcomed me in and dried me off a bit."

Rangiku's face colored slightly, and her eyes shifted towards a point at the wall behind him.

"Shut up, Gin," She growled, then suddenly realized Gin was still holding her wrist in a vice grip. With no amount of gentleness, she yanked her hand out of his.

Gin scowled lightly, disappointed he hadn't got to hold her a little longer, "What now? Ran-chan ain't respectin' her superiors."

She snorted, "I only give respect to people who deserve it."

"I deserve it!"

She rolled her eyes conspicuously and was just about to really whack him with her lamp, when she noticed they had derailed from her original question.

"Anyway," her stare was sharp with suspicion, "What are you doing here?"

Gin smiled and said, "What else do I ever come for?"

The lie is as smooth as water on stone, "I came ta see my favorite girl."

Almost automatically, his mouth spreads into a big stupid grin like butter on bread. What else could he do but lie? _Oh sorry Rangiku, I was out wandering in circles during a storm and mistook yer division house fo' my own. And since I didn't really want ta find the door, I thought I would just crawl through one of the windows. _

Somehow, he knew she wouldn't find it very believable, even if it was the truth.

Rangiku snorted, "You came all the way out here, in the middle of a thunder storm, _just to see me?_" her tone was severely skeptical, "Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

He knew it.

Gin shrugged nonchalantly at her, unable to ignore the natural swaying of her hips as she moved back to cross her arms or the larger bounce of her assets while they tried to bulge out of the sleeping yukata.

"Believe what you want."

Having said that, he spread his wet bony fingers toward her to loop across her waist, bringing her warmth closer to his body of cold rain kisses.

In a moment of sudden surprise, the lamp slipped from her fingers to make a slow fall towards the wooden ground. It crashed almost silently and rolled a few feet away from her grasp.

Rangiku goes into immediate protest, as her body is forcibly drawn towards his. "Gin! Stop, you're all wet!"

She pushed at him, but secretly not with all her strength behind it.

Gin easily fended her off and tried not to bury himself in the maple tangles of her long curly hair.

He knew he was getting her completely wet, he knew he was tracking mud everywhere, he knew that he was blatantly trespassing the moment he stepped foot in her room, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he knew was that he felt colder than a thousand years in the snow, and Rangiku's skin was like feeling the sun again upon his face.

_Please just hold onto me._

"What?" It wasn't until after Rangiku asked, that he realized he'd said the words out loud.

"It's nothing," he told her, and rested his chin upon her shoulder as she shoved roughly with her palms at his stomach.

A stray crash of thunder pierced the room and rocked it for a moment before dying down again.

Gin can feel her fingers jumping slightly in surprise on his stomach. A smile, devoid of darkness, bloomed on his face for a split second. He tilted his head gently to the right until his mouth is right next to the delicate flesh of her ear.

"It's jus' not nice ta be alone during the storm," he whispered below a whisper, "Makes ya feel cornered, ya know?"

Something in his voice must of bumped into Rangiku the wrong way. Her eyes widen for an instant before they unknowingly soften.

Like broken thread, her arms loosened against him as she raised one hand to place firmly on his silver head. Though it was freezing to the touch and small trails of cold rain slithered down her sleeves, she stroked the sleek silver hair caringly.

"Ew, you're getting mud all over my clean floor," she chided half-heartedly, though the mud was starting leak through her own clothes as well, "You're all cold too."

Gin pressed his forehead back onto her soft shoulder blade and breathed in the smell of life, "That's why you should warm me up, Ran-chan."

Unbeknownst to him, her eyes twinkle.

"My sincere apologies, Ichimaru-taichou, I don't have any dry clothes for you to change into."

Gin smiled, and suddenly felt ever so fortunate that he hadn't managed to crawl through _Hitsugaya's _window instead.

"That's quite alright, Matsumoto-fukutaichou," he drawled, and let his hands wander south.

"I won't be needing 'em."

Without another word, Rangiku's hands slid down to his neck. This time, _she _held _him _closer.

He smiled, smiled, smiled as his fingers came alive, and somewhere in his splintered mind, he heard something howl with laughter.

* * *

When he first met Rangiku, he thought of her nothing more than just another child of Rukongai who was left abandoned, starved, and lonely. He'd even rescued her on complete coincidence.

She'd been there and collapsed from hunger, and he'd been there with food. He'd never have gone out of his way for her if the factors of the event hadn't been the way they'd been.

_He'd never._

She groaned slightly from under him, as he grabbed the curve of her shoulder and suckled away at her color and warmth. The spice of cinnamon slips through his tongue to breathe life into his core, and it felt so good Gin couldn't help but suck harder.

"Keep doing that and it'll be too big to cover up tomorrow," she whispered harshly, her voice several octaves higher—and infinitely more irresistible. She hissed between her clenched teeth as the bare skin of her thighs came in contact with his wet pants, still clinging obnoxiously to his hips.

Rangiku feels more than sees the smile curving into her skin, sharper than the tip of a blade. "Why in the world are ya thinkin' about tomorrow?" he asked, his tone still careless and light, though slightly more throaty, "You should jus' enjoy tonight."

He's suddenly abandoned the sucking to grip at her bare breasts, feeling the smoothness of her peachy skin. She lets out a strangled gasp when the unexpected frigidness of his pale fingers splayed across her.

Slowly, Gin started massaging paths into her that are far more wanton than she can feel.

"For all any of us know, _tomorrow _might not even come." He slipped the truth in heavily veiled.

Shivering, but not from any kind of cold, she chuckled, "You idiot, it will come."

A small frown graced his lips, his fingers stopping, "And what makes ya so sure?"

Her eyes are suddenly glazed and bitter under the light brown fringe of her lashes. She gazed up at him, and for the first time, their roles switch, and he finds himself frowning into her empty smile.

"_As long as there's death in this world, it won't end. If there's death, it'll never end." _

Rangiku looked up into his eyes, and he can feel more than tell how she was trying to look around the slits of his lids. It only prompted him to let them fall lower until Rangiku was nothing more than a thin strip of warmth in the violet shadows of the storm outside the window.

As his defenses rise like an icy palisade, she gives up and the tiniest of sighs brushed pass his lean biceps. "You," she wrapped a hand around the wrist near her neck as she spoke, "Should understand that better than anyone right?"

Gin paused, letting the heat from her hand seep down into his bones. Then he smiled, one so starved that he could almost smell the faded, but ever present scent of fear gently lap off her back in waves.

It caused a pale flush on her cheeks, making them rosy, as she's suddenly considerably less sober. Just laying there with her, and simply touching her makes the selfishness inside him flare angrily.

Rangiku's hands bunch around the waist of his hakama as they fumble on the bed. Her hands are dancing around the sinew of his naked chest like nervous butterflies, and he watched in complete amusement as she tried and failed and tried and failed again.

Finally, after her fingers fiddle clumsily over the knot of his sash for the sixth time she gives up and glared at him, "Don't just watch! I'm not your mother, take them off on your own!"

He smiled and obeyed her quickly, untying the knot with ease. The cloth slowly slid down his pallid thighs until he can feel the delicate texture of the silk sheets under his ankles. His arm rose up, smooth and pale and in complete contrast with the dark hue of the room, like a white snake ready to strike.

With an indifferent flick of his wrist, he lets the clothing fly to join Shinso and Haineko in some corner of Rangiku's room that he never bothered to look.

Before he can even bend back down, she's pounced on him like an angry cat, as they are both now as bare as the day they were born. Her legs come up rapidly to straddle his hips and lock behind the arch of his back.

Feeling the tip of his hardness touch her leg, she brims with anticipation.

Gin feels the slender heels of her feet digging into him from behind and he allowed his hands to roam away from her breasts to plant firmly on either side of her head. They stay like that for a silence too long, just simply gazing at each other.

She smiled up at him, not a happy one, or a sad one—just a smile.

"Is it weird to feel so nostalgic like this?" she asked him, in a small voice that held the rich trust she'd had when they were children--holding hands in the middle of nightmares that frothed like sludge.

Gin smiled back at her, one full of bitter reality. For a split moment, the silk under them turn into the dusty floor of their old shack, before the softness returned once more.

"No, it's not weird."

He dipped down to take her for the night, all their words closing inward to bounce off the insides of his skull. A scorching torches the inside of his chest as he touched her and bruised her and entered so many places where he never deserved to go.

_Love won't save you from anything._

Gin doesn't understand how the feeling could possibly be love. Though he still can't help but notice how tightly her fingers came to clasp behind his neck.

_All she has to do is hold on… _

The voice whispered in almost garbled speech that's so clear it was like it's right inside his very ears.

_Please hold on… please hold on…_

She moaned from the hot trails left on her limbs and opened her lips to form words that are lodged in the humid rush of their bodies.

_Please come back…please come back…_

Outside, the storm raged on, wilder than ever before.

* * *

"**To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead."**

**Bertrand Russell**


	3. Run Away Now, Run Away Later

Escape the Storm - Chpt. 3

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it (sadly) never will.

A/N: A million apologies for the short chapter and late update! I had a serious case of writer's block this month not to mention an overdose on envy over the fact that my sister gets to go cruising in her new slick little hybrid while I'm still stuck with my junkie old jeep. But not to worry! I've been able to cure myself with some ice cream and a lot of whining my ass off to friends.

Anyway, this chapter is a lot more light-hearted than the other two. I _attempted _to add some humor into the mix, because this is Gin and I personally like it when he's surrounded by a few laughs. (Hence creepy smile) Unfortunately, so far my experience with writing humor stories has always been a rather crappy sensation. --

Let me know what you think anyway! R&R please!

* * *

**Run Away Now, Run Away Later**

_He has the uncanny ability of waking with the sun. _

_As the ball of orange fire rose upward and the rays tickled the night sky, his pale eyelids rose too. _

_He blinked drowsily, his layers torn down and for a moment has not the slightest clue where he was. _

_Sweetness is embedded in his tongue and yet something black churned in his stomach, in his mind. _

_Through the wispy fog of sleep the events come back to him like torn photographs. He doesn't want them to; they just come. He does not desire to know, to wonder how he'd ended up this way._

_There is a splitting pain wrangled behind his eyes as he sits up. He clutches at his silver locks but he can't reach it. His ears ring faintly with each pound._

_He turns, instinctively trying to get away from things that hurt him, like any human with or without the god-like power that he wields upon his fingertips. _

_What he rests upon is a sleeping beauty, inches apart from his pale naked thigh._

_Her orange curls are spilled over the sheets, over the pillow, spread open like rays of sunshine. Her skin is the color of peach, ripe and melting. A tender sound whispers pass her slightly parted lips._

_She looked soft, soft like the storm clouds that he watched in the sky. She slept so oblivious to him, so clueless to his starvation, his frenetic desperation. She remained so pure it almost hurt him to look._

_A gentle smile spreads on his thin lips, the special one that he reserved just for her. _

_He hates himself for the violent clenching of his heart, for the sudden dryness of his throat, for the fear shaking in his hands. _

_He looks away but only after the monster has crawled closer to his eyes, taken a pretty little peek at the slumbering maiden and howls again. It wants her. _He _wants her. _

'_**How beautiful will she be when she cries?'**_

_But he's not interested in seeing her break, if anything he wanted to see her endure. He wants her to be everlasting like a porcelain doll on a shelf so high no one could touch her. The selfish part of him—every part of him—wanted her to be _his_ and only _his_._

_'Bad boys go to Hell.' The voice interrupts next, the tone melancholy and repetitive, 'Hell, Hell, Hell.'_

_He pays it no mind for what threat was that to him when he was already dead? He just did not wish for it to happen again. To live on now, he had to be ready for anything. He'd stepped over his fair share of people in need, stepped _on _them when it seemed favorable._

_And that's why he doesn't love her, _can't _love her._

_Because every time she smiled, he felt his defenses being viciously torn down. Every time she touched him, he'd feel so fragile, so vulnerable, so completely and utterly _mortal_. But when she kissed him, it was a different story._

_Those were the times where his mind spoke a little too freely, where his brain went to the clouds and his survival instinct dies for a few bitter moments. He begins to want to do anything for her. He begins to want to spend his life with her. He begins to want to stay with her._

_He begins to want to die for her._

_And the very feeling scared him in unimaginable ways. He's terrified that if he becomes too tangled in all her warmth and love, he'll never find his way out until it's too late and he's drowning in his own blood._

_Not adding the fact that even _he_ doesn't know what he'll do to her sometimes._

'_Bad boys go to Hell. Hell, Hell, Hell…'_

_The fear, the disgust with himself, the sheer need to survive makes him swing his long pale legs off the bed. He pulls on his wet clothes, clammy on his skin, grabs his sword and when he looks back again she hasn't stirred at all._

'_Hell, Hell, Hell…'_

_With a noiseless motion of his arms, the window is open and he leaps over the edge and into the crisp morning air. _

_His footsteps are fleeting and he looks back no more as he runs away from her love once again._

* * *

The sun was slowly peeking pass the tight blinds of her shades. Rangiku blinked sleepily and groaned as the inside of her eyelids turned red from the light. With an annoyed groan she threw her arm over her eyes to shield them from the offending light. Ugh, she hated mornings.

She could already hear the division members bustling about, greeting each other, paperwork shifting in their hands. Smoothing down her hair slightly from its disarray she started to rise from the sheets.

And abruptly sat down again when a cold breeze made contact with her nude form.

Quickly pulling the sheets around her, she wondered when in the world she had decided to sleep naked. A strange gut feeling tells her that she's been missing something. Her eyes wander around the room for a moment, before resting on her nightstand lamp that has somehow landed in a corner of her room.

_Silver hair, amused smile._

"MATSUMOTO!"

It clicked into place for her just as a painfully loud roar carried throughout the entire compound, curiously making the very foundation shake. Her ears catch the wild thunderous feet of a very loud tantrum. With sudden shunpo-like speed, she reached beside her to smack Gin awake and hopefully, shove him out the window before her captain came in.

But all her hand touched was the softness of her own sheets.

For a moment she freezes, bemused. He's left in her sleep again.

Then the quite horrifying reality that she's about to flash her rather _young _captain kicks in. All of the years of teasing and annoyingly suggestive words go down the drain, because for Kami's sake _he was just too young!_

With a never before seen kind of despondent panic, she whirled around trying to find her sleeping yukata, or something, anything really that could turn her naked state to a semi-naked state.

"Shit," she mumbled as she searched, "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..."

Finally, in some sort of rare mercy, she caught her yukata out of the corner of her eye. It was half shoved under the bed, the sleeves tangled slightly around the bedpost. With speed far greater than her rank she yanked it free, shucked the sheets around her and tugged it roughly on. She was just pulling up her left sleeve when the door slid open with a loud bang.

There was Hitsugaya in all his four feet glory, with his two hands balled into tiny quivering fists. Despite the situation she half-wondered if it was healthy to have so many veins visible at his temples. His teal eyes were smoldering and his whole face was red like he hadn't been breathing for a whole hour.

Before she could utter a word, he's marched in, still glaring Death at her. They don't say anything for a tension-filled moment.

Then through clenched teeth, he could only rasp, _"What the hell were you doing yesterday night?"_

Rangiku felt everything inside her freeze from his very voice. She'd always known that Hitsugaya didn't like Gin, as one-sided hatred as she believed it was. That's why she had forbidden him from ever coming over to prevent any bloody battles from breaking out on the Tenth Division courtyard lawn.

_It was just that last night... _

She remembered the image, slowly piecing together. Gin, covered in rain and mud. Gin, sliding into her room. He'd looked so sad, so desperate, so _starved._ How could she explain that to her captain?

The frigid teal pools were burning holes into her skull. She gulped slightly. Better yet, how could she be sure her captain would give a damn in the first place? When it came to Gin, Hitsugaya was as irrational as it could get.

With another gulp, she smoothed over her features as calm as she could and met his eyes.

"What do you mean, taichou?" she replied, in a steadier voice than she had perceived.

He glared harder, _"You know damn well what I mean, Matsumoto."_

Her mind was screaming and running around in circles, as everything melted away into _he knows, he knows, he knows._ She unhinged her mouth again, having absolutely no idea of what she was going to say.

"I-"

_"I told you those documents needed to be complete by today!"_ Hitsugaya interrupted; smoke practically curling from his nostrils, "I told you every damned day for the past _month_! Do you have any idea how much the Division has gotten backpedaled because of your stupid mistake! I was up at _four_ this morning negotiating for more time to turn in the reports!"

Rangiku's mind is a blank slate as she stared at her ranting captain. She blinked dumbfounded at him as he screamed in her face. What was all this about paperwork? What about Gin? Where was the big emotional hatred tantrum that came along with it?

"...I don't want you to even _look_ out the office door until you finish every single pile in there!"

Suddenly, she remembered the documents and how she had brushed aside Hitsugaya's nagging reminders. She groaned mentally as she recalled how she had even lectured her captain on how he needed to be more faithful and trust her, because she could take care of it. The very trust she had pushed aside for a night of sex with Gin.

_Rangiku, you're a flaming idiot. _

"Now," Hitsugaya said, noticeably trying to calm himself down, "I want to hear whatever half-assed excuse you have to back up all that crap you'd said before about faith and trust and relying on subordinates."

He folded his arms, still obviously shaking with fury and waited. She bit her lip as she swam for an excuse. Though technically, she _did _have one. It just wasn't exactly the most...valid of excuses.

She could only sigh.

"I have none, taichou," she said dejectedly, "I apologize for betraying your trust. It won't happen again."

Obviously, Hitsugaya was not expecting a simple give-in. He was expecting loud whining and lazy and stupid excuses. Actually he was _depending_ on that because it just made it easier for him to punish her.

He stared for a minute. Something was off with his vice-captain, he wasn't sure what, but he knew something was definitely off.

He sighed, sounding like an old man even to himself.

"I don't toss around my trust meaninglessly, Matsumoto," he replied wearily, "Just finish those documents by today and then I'll see for myself how much meaning you've put into your words."

She nodded, simply waiting now for Hitsugaya to assign so much paperwork that she wouldn't see the sun for days, "Understood, sir."

"And furthermore," she shivered as she remembered how the papers had sucked up whatever oxygen was in the room, "I've decided to let you go without repercussions this time, seeing as you'll be way in over your head anyway."

Well, she certainly wasn't expecting _that_.

Rangiku looked up at her captain in slight shock, but Hitsugaya was staring intently to his left at a small lipstick stain on the wall. A smile curled at her lips as she remembered all over again why she'd die serving anyone else.

"Thanks, taichou."

Predictably, Hitsugaya only gave a noncommittal grunt and pretended to shrug it off. "Hurry up and get dressed. I need them by noon." he mumbled as he slid her bedroom door open.

The good feeling she had nothing but a fraction of a second before immediately vanished. Rangiku gaped openly at her captain's back. She was suppose to finish all those documents by _noon_? That meant no breaks, no phone calls, come to think of it, there was barely enough time for lunch! _What does he think I'm made of? Metal? _she thought, feeling for the oddest of reasons, completely scandalized.

But before she could open her mouth to attack him with a flurry of loud, obnoxious complaints, Hitsugaya cut her off.

"There's some bug spray in my drawer, you know. I don't get why you just sit there and offer yourself up to them like a buffet."

And before she has the faintest idea as to what he's talking about, the door has slid shut. _Bug spray? The hell? _She absently looks out the window, _It's not even the bug season yet._

Rangiku quickly craned her neck, examining herself for the mentioned bug bite. Her eyes surveyed her body, looking around the skin that was visible under the messily garbed yukata. What she suddenly saw though were bony white hands kneading into her skin. A sharp pound goes through her chest as she blinked wildly. When she looked again, the hands were gone.

With a shaky sigh she gathered her bearings. She distantly felt the ghostly touch of those very fingers as she thought back. The night before had been one of the strangest ones she's ever spent with Gin.

For one thing, she doesn't recall him ever being as talkative as he was last night. Well, not exactly _talkative_ since Gin always talked, almost babbled to a degree when they were younger. But she'd heard him say things with feeling behind them for once, like they were actually coming from the heart.

Although she'll never be certain if he'd just put on another mask--another one of those hateful masks. Something, a gut feeling at best, just spoke that Gin hadn't tried to escape her that night. The odd shape of his smile, the shaky tension in his fingers, the half-remembered words that slipped past his lips last night, it screamed the truth.

Secondly, why the hell had he been wandering around in the middle of the storm in the first place?

As much as her heart reached for it like forbidden fruit, she could hardly believe he'd done it _just _to see her. With Gin there was always a reason, a sick twisted reason, but a reason. Rangiku let a frustrated groan escape her as the two questions jostled around inside her head like loud metal cans.

The whole experience had just been..._strange_.

_It's Gin, _she reminded herself, _Strange is like his own special word. _Even as she thought this, something tickled in her stomach and whispered of bad omens. And perhaps she would've put more thought into it, if not for a small red swelling she discovered at her shoulder, another mark Gin has left upon her.

Realization dawned on her. _Taichou was talking...the bug spray...ohhh..._

The furious blush followed soon after. For the first time since ever really, Rangiku whispered a thank you to whoever had bestowed her with a prepubescent boy with no real sexual knowledge as her captain. Even with no one in the room Rangiku felt her cheeks flaming like a scarlet fire.

_Damn him,_ she growled, _I told him not to suck so hard_.

Rangiku cursed under her breath as she slipped out of her bed and walked over to her mirror. Her fist was clenched to the top of her yukata the cloth closed together tightly so that not even a sliver of skin was showing. As she stepped into the mirror's reflection and took in her disheveled and exhausted form she began to get scared.

Sluggishly, she loosened her grip on the collar of the yukata until her hand fell uselessly at her side. The cloth sprung open from her ample bosom like a blooming flower. Rangiku took one good look at her reflection and had to stop herself from screaming.

She's not entirely sure Hitsugaya would buy it if she tried to explain away thirty hickeys as bug bites.

Everywhere, Gin's tongues, lips, teeth had marked their trail on her body. Rangiku clenched her teeth and fists, staring into the mirror in disbelief and willing for the red swellings to dissipate before her eyes.

Oh yes, Ichimaru Gin was a dead man.

* * *

Achoo!

Gin almost growled as he sneezed for the fourth time in the span of two minutes. He'd never felt so horrible in his entire life, and his only consolation was that the storm was over and his clothes, albeit still wet were no longer completely soaked as they were the previous night.

His throat felt clogged, his head was pounding, he couldn't breathe well, and his very bones were aching. In fact, part of him was still wondering why he hadn't just stayed nestled with Rangiku for a few more hours instead of getting up and leaving as soon as he woke. The other part of him was still trying to explain that if he'd stayed any longer, he would've risked his reiatsu leaking out and a certain white unpleasant chibi popping in on them.

He didn't know about anyone else, but Gin for one, did not enjoy the sound of death threats and tantrums upon his ears.

Just the thought of the stentorian captain on his case was enough to send another painful ache up his temples. Gin carefully brought up two fingers to massage them. His usual smile had faded away quite abruptly when he'd woken up this morning rolled together with Rangiku in her sheets.

_Rangiku, Rangiku, _the voice suddenly uttered, _Matsumoto Rangiku._

An annoyed scowl came upon his face as the unexpected sound combined with the violent headache caused Gin to lose his footing for a moment on the cobblestone walk. He stumbled a few paces, the wind carrying a draft upon his still damp clothes that chilled his skin.

_Yes, _he replied back sarcastically, _That would be her name_.

The voice said nothing and Gin suddenly has the urge to scream. It was just all getting a little ridiculous. Having Shinso in his head was enough but having a partially sane voice that spoke like a broken record? He was beginning to wonder if he had some sort of disorder.

_Cruel, cruel, _it speaks, febrile, _blind, blind._

But before Gin felt like expending the effort to decipher whatever the hell it was talking about, he catches the sight of a big black tiled roof along with a big kanji 'Three' stamped below it. A big grin formed on Gin's face as a sense of relief washed over him.

Well, either relief or exhaustion because he stumbled again and almost fell on his face. Struggling a little too hard to regain his balance, Gin quickly shuffled pass the main gate. Content on using the main entrance this time, now that he was sure it was _his _division, Gin gradually made it to the door, his face burning and his body freezing.

Sliding it open gently, Gin slipped inside with silence. Not a soul stirred and he knew that maybe most if not all the members were still burrowed deep within their dreams. Suddenly Gin felt rather grateful that he'd kept it slack with his rules and procedures. The last thing he needed at the moment was for random squad members (with ridiculously long names he could never remember) to bombard him in the hallways.

For one thing, he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't vomit on them. And for another, the sky was suddenly turning a very unusual shade of pink, which as far as he knew, was _not _a good thing.

Swiftly kicking off his shoes and shutting the door, Gin padded to his own private chambers. He just wanted to sleep it all away, no bet, no Aizen, no nothing. He didn't want to think about anything at the moment, especially since his sinuses were all clogged and his head hurt too much to think anyway.

As his hand reached for the door the voice whispered again. _Coward_.

Gin could never agree more.

* * *

**"****There are several good protections against temptation, but the surest is cowardice."**

**Mark Twain**


	4. Ominous Red Walls

Escape the Storm – Chpt. 4

**Disclaimer: **The only Bleach I own is the Bleach in my laundry room.

A/N: Wow, how long has it been? I can't believe school already started and I _still _hadn't made an update yet. So I sat myself down and tortured myself for two hours writing this chapter. Writer's block is _not _going to keep me from writing this story.

Please review, and don't make those two hours be in vain!

(I hope this chapter's understandable, since it's a little confusing. Gin has made a little blabbermouth to Kira.) :D

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**Ominous Red Walls**

Kira Izuru groaned once and moved his shoulders lightly. He winced as a series of revoltingly loud pops and cracks met his ears. In the cold morning air, they were embarrassingly deafening. It was definitely from all the twisting and turning he'd done in bed.

He sighed, rubbed his eyes tiredly and suppressed a yawn. A headache was pounding at his temples, but the worry pulsating through his heart was quickly overpowering it.

His captain hadn't returned last night.

Normally, Ichimaru Gin's comings and goings were about as predictable as life itself. He could be there at the office constantly at such a consistent pace that his presence could be counted on and then suddenly disappear for weeks on end with no apparent reason or explanation why. Kira could personally vouch that the man was perfectly capable of simply vanishing into thin air. (He'd done it several times actually, while Kira had been trying to get him to sigh some highly important documents).

He sighed again and pondered if he should head straight for the office or take a trip down to Gin's chambers to see if the captain had returned.

The latter eventually won out and Kira soon found himself on the rarely treaded path to his Captain's quarters. As his socks padded gently down the silent halls, his fingernails unconsciously rose up to his lip for his teeth to clamp down on.

He has wondered, ever since the first time Gin had left without a trace, where the man always went. No matter how many times he'd repeatedly told himself that it was really none of his business.

No matter, if he _did _want to know.

He was young when he first met Ichimaru Gin. Very young. Very Stupid. Even when Captain Aizen walked by with his usual benevolence and empathy, Kira had only eyes for the silver shadow at his heels.

_Ara, ara, what do we have here? A lost lil' puppy?_

_I-Ichimaru-fukutaichou! I'm sorry for disturbing you!_

_Haha, relax, no trouble, no need for a heart attack._

_Y-yes sir._

_Say, you were that kid from back then weren't ya? During the hollow attack in Karakura?_

_Oh, yes sir! We were practicing Konso when the Hollows had appeared._

_Yeah, you were the kid that was screamin' and cryin' right?_

_I-I wasn't crying, sir! _

_Well, there ain't nothing wrong with it._

_I-I disgraced myself as a warrior._

_Warriors are afraid to die too y'know._

Kira shook his head lightly, trying to rid himself of the memories that were suddenly playing through his head. The thunder last night must've rattled his nerves. He remembered hearing a few of the men commenting that it was rather rare for Soul Society to encounter any storms.

_I disagree sir; warriors are never scared to die._

Kira forcefully brought his hand down to his side as he turned a corner to Gin's bedroom door. No doubt he would be teased mercilessly for the bad habit if his captain were there.

_Well, they ain't scared…_

And even if he had gone to look for him, seeing his captain at the door was not what he'd been expecting at all.

…_I'd say more like terrified._

"Ichimaru-taichou?" Kira called, blinking a bit to make sure he wasn't seeing things. The figure garbed in black and white flinched slightly at the name, encouraging Kira to rush forward with relief.

"Taichou! Where were you? I've been looking everywhere for you," Kira exclaimed, forgetting about the peace and quiet in favor of running up to Gin's side, "There's so many things you need to do! I've got the backlog of papers right on your desk and if we go now we—"

He trailed off suddenly at his captain's silence.

"Taichou? Are you okay?" Kira inquired, cautiously taking the few remaining steps to look up into his captain's face.

His skin was paler than a ghost, and took on a sickly yellowish glow. There was sweat shining around his temples—red like they'd been pressed and rubbed at viciously before. His silver hair was hanging in damp clumps, limp beside his ears and across his forehead.

His bedraggled appearance sent an uneasy feeling down Kira's spine.

"Sir?" Kira asked again, when his captain made no reply, which was by far the most unsettling. His captain was not known for his silence.

Gin was blinking blearily at him, like he was trying to decipher who the person was in front of him. Kira took the opportunity to look into his eyes—cracked the tiniest bit open to help him see better. The dark red underneath was glazed and milky with fever.

The concern that had been slowly building up within him, flared like an angry rash.

"I-Izuru?" Gin asked after finally making sense of the skinny blonde blur in front of him "Why up so early this morning? T-trying to play 'workaholic' again?"

Kira gaped at his captain's sore and tired attempt at a joke.

"Taichou, I think you'd better go lie down," Kira said bemusedly, forgetting about the paperwork—it was _very _rare for his captain to get sick, "You don't look well."

"Aww, are you saying I'm not p-pretty anymore," Gin slurred back, slightly delirious, "That really 'urt my feelings."

Kira's eyes widened at the quivering he heard in Gin's feathery voice.

For as long as he can recall serving under him, his captain had never shown any weaknesses. There hadn't been a single spot in him that an enemy could prod and consume him with. He was the only captain able to go out in battle, get covered in the gore and blood of enemies and continue like nothing had ever happened.

Others called it inhuman, but Kira had admired it.

Now that very man is before him with so many vulnerabilities that a slight breeze could destroy him. It was…disconcerting.

"Taichou," Kira persisted, ignoring Gin's reply, "Come on, I'll help you get to bed sir."

Kira reached for his captain's arm, only for it to be pulled out of his reach. Gin stumbled slightly at the sudden movement, the room spinning around him. His palm planting itself on the door, he managed to regain his footing.

"You've got some funky taste, I-Izuru," he murmured, looking around at the walls of the hallway, "When did I give you the 'ok' to paint my division pink?"

Kira stared. He whipped his head around to look at the walls that were still white as snow, not even yellowed with age. He turned back to look at his captain, who was squinting at something a few inches above his head.

"Oh God," Kira mumbled to himself in alarm, before walking determinedly toward Gin, "Taichou, the walls aren't pink, you're hallucinating. I need to get you to bed."

"Nuh-uh!" Gin retorted childishly, "They are pink! Look, even the ceiling is turning pink!"

He released his hold on the door in favor of pointing out the blatant pigment of the ceiling to his lieutenant. His body feeling suddenly very unbalanced, swayed hard to the left.

In a moment of instinct, Kira grabbed his captain's arm and looped it over his shoulder. Immediately, the wet clammy feeling of his captain's sleeve on his bare neck sunk in.

"Taichou!" Kira exclaimed, almost letting go at the sudden shock of cold, "You're soaking wet!"

He turned to stare at his captain, but the only reaction Gin had to his lieutenant's latest revelation was another insistent jab towards the ceiling.

"Look, it's turning red now."

Kira sighed and decided against trying to get a rational explanation out of him. No wonder he was sick, he was soaked to the core! And judging by how he'd caught Gin right outside the door, his captain had been wandering around since dawn in nothing but his wet clothes.

What had he been doing, _dumping water on himself because he was bored?_

He wasn't even sure if there was enough water to dump for it to not have dried up yet. It was like Gin had went out while the sky was pouring or something. _Really _pouring, like during the-

"_Taichou, what were you doing outside in the middle of a storm?_" Kira exclaimed, gaping incredulously at the man draped over his shoulder.

Gin turned to stare at him a minute, before bringing his hand down to tap his chin thoughtfully. He didn't really remember actually—something to do with storms and _orange hair?_

He settled for a shrug, which was even an effort in itself, since his bones felt like they were made of lead at the moment.

Kira exhaled in exasperation, before blowing some blond hair out of his face. There was no point in asking his captain now when he was so disoriented.

Grunting slightly with the combined weight of his _much heavier _and _much taller _superior, Kira grappled the cranny of the door and slid it open.

Most captains had added their own little touch to their rooms to give it a more homely feel for their subordinates. Captain Aizen's was filled with calligraphy, books, lamps that gave the room a warm glow. Captain Unohana's had medical textbooks lining the shelves, patient files, and the smell of herbs. Even Captain Zaraki had added a little décor to his room, though it was mostly bloodstains and used bandages.

Gin's room was bare and empty, with only a closet, desk, and a simple bed inside.

The bed was made and the blankets were folded neatly. There was nothing on top the desk except for a few ink brushes and stamps. The closet was untouched, no clothes sticking out of it like he'd remembered seeing in Hinamori's room at times. The sun peeking through the shades let thin strips of white light dance across the floor and walls.

Kira gulped without noticing—a strange imposing feeling traveling throughout his body.

He's never gone to his captain's room before. He's stood at the threshold, but never actually _inside_.

Somehow, it felt very…_inappropriate_.

"Ah! It's in my room too!" Gin suddenly said, startling Kira out of his thoughts, "My walls are turnin' red!"

Resisting the urge to sigh for the fifth time in the tiny span of time that had passed, Kira got a firmer grip on Gin's wrist and tried to shift Shinso away from its uncomfortable position against his leg. He had to put unnecessary emotions behind; his captain needed him right now.

_He's never needed me before_.

His captain had needed him for sorting paperwork, briefing recruits, and going to meetings in his stead when he decided to disappear. His captain had needed him for the trivial tasks in life that he was too lazy to perform himself. In other words, his captain had never needed him at all.

_But now he did._

A tiny smile slid up his face as he half-carried and half-dragged his barely conscious captain to his bed. After propping Shinso against the wall and setting him down gently on the mattress, Kira slowly took off Gin's white haori. Droplets of rainwater were still coming off of it and Kira set it down on the low table beside the bed to dry. His captain couldn't stay in those clothes, which were still covered in rain and mud. He groaned quietly in a slightly high pitch, before turning to face his captain.

"Taichou, you need to change out of those clothes," Kira said, pronouncing every word clearly, "Will you be able to do it yourself?"

The only reply he received was a lopsided grin.

_Good enough_. Kira turned toward the closet, sliding it open and grabbing the dark blue sleeping yukata that hung there. He walked back to his captain and offered the clothing to him.

Gin stared at it like it was a foreign object, before his hands slowly traveled toward the knot in his hakama. Realizing what he was about to do, Kira's eyes bugged for a moment, before quickly setting the clothes down and turning to give the man some privacy.

After a few moments of rustling cloth, Kira turned around again to see his captain garbed in the yukata. The ruined shihakushō lay rumpled on the floor.

"Izuru," Gin slurred out looking up at him feverishly, "The room is spinning."

Kira rushed forward as if on command to help him lay down. After making sure he was comfortable, Kira cautioned a hand to Gin's forehead.

_He's never touched his captain before either._ It really was a day of 'firsts' for him.

Skinny fingers fluttered lightly to the pale skin before landing and almost immediately drawing back again.

"Taichou, you're burning up!" Kira screeched, waving his hand around like he'd actually been scalded. "We need to call Unohana-taichou!"

Only spending enough time to tuck the blankets around the silver-haired man's shivering form, Kira spun around, ready to sprint to the Fourth Division, before a slender arm reached up to snatch his sleeve.

Slipping slightly from the sudden additional weight on his back, Kira whipped around to face his captain.

"Izuru," Gin rasped, hands shaking, "The walls are turning red."

"Taichou, you're ill, I need to go call Unohana-taichou right now. Will you please let go of my sl—"

"You're not listening to me, Izuru," Gin cut him off, and the unusual tone of his voice, made Kira stop trying to gently pry his fingers off of him, "Someone is turning the walls red."

Kira looked at his captain, slightly unnerved by the words. Red always reminded him of blood. It was an automatic thing.

Gin's eyes fluttered lightly and Kira could feel the iron grip that his captain had on him loosening. Feeling the resistance draining out of him, Kira indulged.

"Who, Taichou? Who's turning the walls red?"

Gin's eyes fluttered some more, the red underneath foggy and filmed over.

"_God. God is turning the walls red."_

Kira can feel his eyes widening to the size of plates, as Gin's grip finally goes slack and his arm fell back on the bed like a slab of dead meat. Kira waited at his side until his wheezing breaths smoothed into slumber.

Silently, he slid the door shut behind him and with some effort, shook off the rather foreboding words.

Chalking it up to the fever speaking, Kira did shunpo all the way down to the Fourth Division.

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Aizen set down his brush and gave the window a contemplative look. Gin was right—the scenery was absolutely marvelous.

The clouds were moving on, turning the purplish hue of the sky back to its quotidian blue. The rain dewed all over the cherry blossoms, making them shine like pink jewels. The air carried a humid fragrance about it.

It was probably the only thing he would have the tiniest ounce of regret for.

Hueco Mundo was not known for its spectacular views.

Locking his fingers, Aizen rested his chin on his hands. He was still one hundred percent confident that the plan would succeed, despite Gin's sudden choice of backing out.

Ever since he'd first met the boy, there had always been this lingering humanity in him. It was tightly woven in among his fear, stubborn and unmoving, no matter how many attempts Aizen has made. To say the least—it was _bothersome._

He had a feeling Gin despised that part of him quite a bit himself.

A malicious smirk crept on his face as Aizen watched the receding storm clouds. Once this was all over, Aizen knew he'd be rid of that bothersome part of Gin for good.

_No one stood against God._

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"**Humanity is the sin of God."**

**Theodore Parker **


	5. Crippled Light

Escape the Storm – Chpt. 5

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it. (sigh) this thing really gets depressing to write after a while.

A/N: Phew! I really had to kill myself to write this one. The chapter may be a bit confusing to follow at first, but just know that basically Shinso is the 'beast' or Gin's true self and the 'voice' or his conscience is always sounds like it's mentally ill, because of Gin's constant repression of it. (Even Gin's conscience is slightly crazy! XD)

Also, someone has 'advised' me to kick up my rating a bit because of some of the content. While I won't do it yet, the rating probably will go higher as Gin _really_ starts trying to win the bet.

Please enjoy and keep reviewing! Your review are like fodder for me!

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**Crippled Light**

Rangiku propped her head up with her hand, as she stared none too inconspicuously at the wall. Nanao Ise's sharp informative voice buzzed in the background, just outside the recesses of her mind.

"And this year Unohana-taichou is asking for our full cooperation in administering flu shots…" her voice went on and on, endlessly.

Rangiku could already feel her eyes slowly drooping, lulled by the sound of rustling papers and chalk on chalkboard. Her head fell softly forward as her eyes closed.

She managed to catch herself before she hit her head rather harshly on the table. Rangiku blinked for a moment, shook her head lightly, and smoothed out her hair. Looking around her to make sure no one had seen this embarrassing display, she folded her arms across her chest.

It wasn't even five minutes later that Rangiku found herself dozing off again.

Sighing, she placed her arms down on the table in front of her instead. Rangiku had been working since this morning, as soon as she had gotten out of bed and had something decent enough to eat. She hadn't been able to take any of her daily naps and had barely been able to squeeze in enough time for lunch. Ink stains lined her wrists and fingers—a memento of her day.

At the moment, she wasn't sure she could endure the sight of another signature or blank report without tearing something apart.

"There has been request from a group of twelfth seats for more beds to be moved into the Eleventh Division, so most of them can cease sleeping on the floorboards…"

She resisted the urge to groan. Paperwork was always the bane of her existence, but adjutant meetings were her own personal hell.

She has never been made to endure something as utterly and irrevocably dull as an assistant captain's meeting. It lacked the engrossing quality of captain meetings, where the most important and classified discussions were held.

Here, there was only talk about the latest article in the Shinigami Weekly, new training exercises, and annual medical check-ups.

Her eyes floated down the long table to her colleagues. Kusajishi Yachiru was busy chewing on a meatbun, Omaeda was chomping obnoxiously on crackers, and Kira was fidgeting openly beside her.

Other than that, most of them looked exactly like she did. Bored out of their skulls.

The only ones that seemed to be paying even a shred of attention to Nanao were Kurotsuchi Nemu—who was silent and polite as always, and Hinamori Momo—who was actually _scribbling down notes _as Nanao droned off her clipboard.

No doubt, Captain Aizen had made some off comment that he preferred people who paid attention to others when speaking.

Rangiku resisted the urge to roll her eyes in resigned amusement.

They should really start making adjutant-meeting attendances optional.

It would save more time for training and missions—seeing as the only people that would probably come anyway would be Hinamori and Nemu, not even Nanao. It could encourage others to view the lieutenant position as a less 'underdog' status.

Almost unnoticeably, Rangiku's right eye twitched as she felt the wandering of other bored eyes fall on her.

Most of all, it would probably settle the mood better in them all because they didn't have to come to pointless meetings to discuss pointless topics or let their eyes travel and think about pointless things.

She could already feel most of the men leering and staring at her chest.

Her right eye twitched again. Rangiku was tired and fatigued and bored out of her mind. She didn't come or _ever _would come to put on a show.

Crankily, she threw some of her soft orange tresses over her shoulder, making both Tetsuzaemon Iba and Hisagi Shuuhei blush and gulp simultaneously.

Rolling her eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh, she leaned into the back of her chair. _Yes, she would definitely remember to bring up the idea to her captain next time._

Beside her, Kira fidgeted again.

Rangiku raised her eyebrow slightly at him, but he was staring at a spot on the wall straight ahead. The boy was pale, twitching, and seemed very nervous about something.

If it hadn't been for the slight sheen of sweat beginning to make itself visible on his forehead, Rangiku would've thought it was only the norm.

Leaning in quietly toward him, she cupped a hand over her mouth, "Kira, are you okay?"

The poor boy jumped slightly at the sudden words breaking into his thoughts. He turned slightly to look into Rangiku's inquisitive eyes before snapping back towards the wall.

"Yes, Matsumoto-san," Kira murmured back, still fidgeting, "I'm perfectly fine."

Rangiku's eyebrows went higher.

"You sure? You're twitching like mad."

"What? I am _not._" Kira retorted automatically, suddenly slamming his palms down on his legs to stop the shaking.

It was clear something was bothering the boy. Rangiku eyed Kira for a moment, before a mischievous smile broke out on her face.

"Are to."

Kira looked at her incredulously, but couldn't help retorting, "Am not."

"Are to."

"AM NOT."

"Are to."

"_AM NOT_." Kira whispered the yell, eyes downcast and unhappy.

There was a beat. Then…

"Are to."

Rangiku watched curiously as Kira swallowed his yell back down again with effort. She watched as his fingers starting twitching again and his forehead was shining slightly from sweat. She sighed at the boy's shyness.

"C'mon, Kira," Rangiku urged, a little more thoughtfully, "Just tell me what's bugging you before you pass out into my lap or something."

Obviously, she had a few more things to learn about choosing the right words even if Kira could've used a little more loosening up anyway. The poor lieutenant's face was turning redder than the evening sun.

She continued to wait as he spent several minutes recomposing himself. Finally, he straightened out his sleeves and looked at her with a nervous glint in his eyes.

"I'm just a little concerned about Ichimaru-taichou," even as the whispered words were still being said, Kira's slender fingers flew out to grab his sleeves to twist and messy them once more.

Rangiku stared at him in confusion, though her heart did skip a beat at the mention of Gin's name. She purposefully ignored it, sent a displeasing look to her bundled up chest and let her anger seep back in.

"What about him?" She asked, nonchalant.

Kira looked at her for a split second and that was all that she needed to decide that she didn't like what she saw.

There was a blind devotion there, covered over by a ghost-like naivety and fringed with pale blond hair. She stared into twin pools of blazing concern before tearing her eyes away to glance randomly at the edge of her sleeve, black and stain-like on the wooden table. She tried not to think of all the ways Gin might have been abusing these little gifts that have fluttered so voluntarily into his hand.

"He came back this morning burning up and soaked in rain," Kira shook his head, half with a sigh of utter exasperation and disbelief and the other with an unbalanced panicking noise, "I'm not sure what happened."

Something heavy and sharp dropped into the bottom of Rangiku's belly. The light chuckle she had prepared to comfort Kira with whatever had been concerning him had diminished in her throat.

"W-What?" Rangiku felt herself speaking, unable to erase the anxiety in her tone, "Stop joking, Kira. Gin doesn't get sick. He just _doesn't_."

But the disliked look in Kira's eyes doesn't fade away.

"_You _didn't see him," Kira whispered back dazedly, "He was delirious—rambling about red walls or something. His fever was so high that I had to call Unohana-taichou over."

Kira hunched his shoulders and shook his head, like he was trying to knock the pain right out of his skull from a particularly bad headache.

"_Kami-sama, _I've never seen him like that before."

Rangiku found the words _Neither have I _lodged in her throat.

It was understandable how upset Kira was by it. To him, Gin was everything. Everything he aspired to, everything he desired, everything he ever idolized.

Everything, _everything_.

Oh, she's warned him about Gin, was brutally honest too—didn't fail to leave a single gruesome detail out. Because if Kira ever got left behind, then she would know it'd be her fault and she doesn't need to shoulder that guilt.

But the sadistic smile aside, the terrifying cruelty aside, the mocking words aside, Kira only saw the power behind it and a dangerous loyalty.

It was understandable to be the _tiniest _bit upset when all he knew was suddenly crumbling and weakened.

And yet she felt worse. Much worse.

Even when they were young and about as innocent as they could get with so much blood on their hands, all she remembered of him was a smile and a disturbingly serpentine grace.

And when he pulled a hook from a fish's mouth, watched it flopping back and forth across mud, desperate for the water and then gutted it without warning.

When he slipped across the grass towards an unsuspecting wild hare, nimble white feet stepping in all the right places, until he's pounced on it and broke its neck with his bare hands all before it could even blink.

There's more after that, more and more…

And he's smiling every time, like it's funny and rather entertaining. Like life and death was just some sort of two-way bridge that he could cross whenever he felt like it.

To think of someone like that—someone like Ginwho she had believed long ago held no weaknesses at all, unaware and _weak_ was unsettling to say the least.

"I can't believe what he was thinking," Kira continued on, unaware her mind had drifted off somewhat, "What _was _he thinking?"

The boy looked at her despondently, an exasperated gaze that reminded her of tired mothers with wild children.

"What would need to be done _outside _in the _middle of a storm_?"

She doesn't notice the strange looks that are starting to be sent their way as their frantically whispered conversation stopped being so 'whispered.' She doesn't notice when Kira looked back toward the wall and started fidgeting again. She doesn't notice when Hisagi and Iba's stares intensify on her.

_A storm. There had been a storm last night_.

And it hit her all at once hard enough that she found it a miracle she hadn't fallen out of her seat. The scene replayed in her head without warning with fiery detail.

She recalled Gin in all his sinew and silvery lines, with a soaked robe and a mud splattered hakama. She saw his sharp face softening into something intense and somber. Then his white limbs are crawling all over her and his grinning-but-not-really face.

She saw this morning when all that was left of him was the subtle feel of another against her bed sheets.

A sudden anger flourished inside of her. Some at him. More at herself.

A person would think after all those years together, she'd be able to tell if he was sick or not. How could she have just let him leave like that this morning?

The fact that she was probably asleep crossed her mind, but she didn't pay any thought.

Rangiku felt a fumbling guilt in her stomach at the memory of Gin's drenched and grinning form. It intensified as she remembered the night they shared, when she indulged him again when she really should've been trying to get him home. It had been irresponsible.

And just to add insult to injury, Rangiku could only shamefully admit to herself how much she had wanted it.

She had wanted it so badly.

So when he'd suddenly turned up in her room, tracking mud everywhere and smiling like a fool, she hadn't refused him. And she wanted to believe him when he said he came for her, even if he hadn't and she knew it.

What kind of idiot did he think she was anyway?

A slight frown formed upon Rangiku's lips.

More importantly, what kind of idiot was _he?_

Her surge of fury immediately changed course from herself to Gin as the thought landed. Unconsciously her hands clenched into tight fists, earning her a raised eyebrow from Kiyone, who was sitting across from her.

_What the hell had he been _thinking_?_

Rangiku was so stupefied by his idiotic actions that she was almost awed. She wasn't sure if she'd_ ever_ understand Gin completely enough to know why he would spend his whole entire night, _voluntarily _walking around in a storm.

"That idiot," she muttered quietly to herself, "Who the hell gets up at the crack of dawn to walk home in wet clothes?"

Another weird stare was sent by Kiyone, not that she really noticed.

The rest of the meeting was a blur to her, with Nanao's barely comprehended words falling completely out of her attention.

Thousands of memories were running before her eyes. Each one, he is leaving her only to come back grinning like it's so damn _funny_ to watch her worry all the time.

It was only after everyone had started pushing their chairs back and getting up that Rangiku realized the meeting was over.

By then, she was completely and irrationally pissed off at her childhood friend.

Immediately, she sprung from her chair and rushed up to Kira, who was trying to hustle quickly to the door, fidgeting all the way.

_(How dare he…)_

Rangiku jumped in front of the boy, startling him slightly.

"Where is he right now Kira? Unohana-taichou's?" Rangiku interrogated, voice hard.

_(How dare he…)_

Kira blinked in surprise before quickly shaking his head.

"No, I had Unohana-taichou come over. Why do you—"

Rangiku pushed him aside, before he could even finish his sentence. Quickly she rushed up to the door, ignoring a few of the puzzled looks and semi-curious questions that were sent her way.

_(How dare he…)_

Though she did make a couple rather feeble attempts to calm down, it just seemed to be getting worse and worse.

Uncontrollably, she imagined all the times that he has disregarded her. She imagined him in his bed, weak and frail with fever, but still wearing his stupid grin, because she's by his bedside, worrying her heart out and he knew it.

_(How dare he…)_

Then there's Hitsugaya, giving her weird stares and handing her a bottle of bug-spray. There's her walk over to the meeting room a few hours ago with her breasts feeling tight and enclosed under the shihakushō. It's all _his _fault.

Grabbing both door handles, she wrenched them open violently.

_**(How dare he make her worry again!)**_

"THAT ASSHOLE!" Rangiku bellowed, stepping into the grand hallway, eyes blazing, ready to sprint down to the Third to wipe the stupid smirk off his face, "I'M GOING TO BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF HIM!"

A bunch of frenzied yelps were heard from behind her, but she paid no mind. Snapping her head up, she glared hotly ahead.

What was at the receiving end of her outburst made her rage melt into a shameful little puddle.

"T-taichou?" Rangiku stuttered out, a cold rush of ice slithering up and down her spine, "What are you doing here?"

She stared down in astonishment at the short white figure. It was rare for a captain to come to the adjutants' meeting area.

Many of her colleagues, whom had been flustered by her random outburst, were now glancing rather curiously at her captain as they slowly crept by too.

The aforementioned prodigy had a pinky crawled up his ear, twisting it back and forth to make sure his ears were still functioning properly. He was glaring rather venomously at her and Rangiku could already feel the blood rushing to her face.

"I think," Hitsugaya crossed his arms, eyes still narrowed, "Whoever you just broke the eardrums of is going to have to wait."

Rangiku felt herself blushing even harder.

"I'm sorry, taichou."

He raised a hand to wave it off abruptly, before looking at her seriously, "We need to go. _Right now._"

Rangiku felt her eyebrows rising despite herself, the look of his cold teal eyes was unnerving.

"Huh?"

A strange ominous feeling crept through her, "Why? What's going on?"

Hitsugaya turned away, and though she doesn't understand why, the sight of his small back with the long sword strapped tight around narrow shoulders made her apprehensive.

When he does answer, his voice is calm, but Rangiku felt herself coiling slightly from the chill anyway.

"Kuchiki Rukia has been apprehended. Central 46 has decreed execution."

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_Shinso was languishing under a wispy boulder, his nine long tails casting gray shadows across the cracked stone underneath. The moon above him was ever changing, first full, then crescent, then completely dark, only for the full white circle to return._

_The shadows remain through these phases, these split-second moments of complete darkness. It was inescapable, just like this place. _

_Shinso yawned, revealing a mouthful of blades and a white mist of breath as it formed and swirled._

_Only the dead air caught it, this world unable to accept the idea of life._

_He lowers his head to rest upon his two front paws, rippling with lean muscle, his long triangular ears up and straight._

_A barren soulscape with cracks everywhere._

_Shinso turned his head slightly, eyes still slits, "I use to think you were a little messed up in the head already, but this place says it all doesn't it?"_

_He sent a feral grin to his pale master._

_Gin doesn't deem him with a reply. He was standing just the slightest bit in front of the boulder, gazing down apathetically at the fox._

_Shinso continued on, completely unbothered, "Things are going to get hectic soon. Did you come here on a whim or something?"_

_Again, no reply._

_Shinso curled his lip slightly, a low growl in his throat at being so blatantly ignored._

"_As much as I love your whimsical little visits," sarcasm was dripping off of his words like poison, "It would really be more enjoyable if you actually said something during our conversations."_

_Silver ears flattened to the skull, thin eyes focused sharply on the man before him._

_There was still more silence, as the moon phased in and out._

_Then finally, a cold voice slices through, haunting the empty grounds._

"_You want to kill her."_

_It was neither a question nor an accusation, simply a statement. Gin's skin around his eyes was smooth, a beautifully sharp face of lines and calm._

_Shinso grinned again, letting a long dark pink tongue hang out from slack dagger-filled jaws._

"_So do you," Shinso smacked his lips, wetting the silver fur around his muzzle, "You want to keep her somewhere to rot away."_

_From the corner of squinting eyes, Shinso caught the slight twitch of his master's long skeletal fingers. It made him want to laugh, how human the boy still was. _

_He has seen it, stuck to Gin's back like some horrible leech. Ever since the boy has crawled here, on his white limbs and looked at him as he sat there waiting, with all the hatred in the world._

_No matter how brilliant he was, or how cruel, that human _thing_ was still _there_. So Gin fell just a little behind his threshold, just a little below his full potential, and just a little away from Shinso's respect._

_He thought he'd leave the boy alone for a few years, in hopes that he'd dispose of it soon enough. Only to see that it has grown and swelled every time he spoke to that girl with the orange hair and that child with the shaky presence._

"_That ain't true," Gin replied slowly, voice almost confused, "I don't wanna hurt her."_

_Shinso's grin widened, the silver muzzle glistening from the saliva that dotted it. The smell of denial was rancid with fear and artificial love. It was disgusting. He thrived in it._

"_Don't lie to me. I know you." One of his tails was swishing back and forth, "I _am_ you."_

_The swelling human thing had grown stronger and burst forth, like a weak little spot of light burning into a just as weak beam of light. It had come crawling out from under all the rage and sadism and madness that he had set upon this land._

_It was a crippled conscience that repeated the same words over and over, like it has forgotten what to do with them. _

_The sight of it, even imaginary, sent waves of revulsion through his entire being. _

_And Aizen._

_Aizen had plans for that little piece of Gin, the little dying, mangled piece. Big plans. Shinso saw it clearly in those hellish brown eyes. _

_Shinso knew, but doesn't feel much like warning his master either. Things were always more interesting that way._

_The fox unfolded itself and lay on his side, one side of his face touching the cold and hearing those rapturous screams through the dry cracks, beneath the surface._

"_The prospect of death has really brought you to an all time low, Gin," he raised his head slightly to the unresponsive man, "I should know, spending all my time in this crumbling mind of yours."_

_The moon continued its cycle, so for every split second all Gin can see was the white of pearly teeth and long silver shadows._

_But that voice talked on, echoing like a dark memory._

"_You go and fraternize with a man that exceeds the boundaries of insanity, scheme everything up, only to throw it away again and try to back out?"_

_It wounded around him, taunting, hissing like a serpent._

"_You really are…"_

_The moon's constant flickering was making him lightheaded._

"_A selfish creature."_

_Then Shinso was there and in another he was gone in the black except for his piercing smile. Until he came back, slowly appearing in the white of the full moon, only to dim a second later, and disappear altogether again._

_There was a low chuckle, covered with tremulous purrs and animal sounds. The beast stood lightly, long silver tails sharper than knives. _

_Who is going to save you?_

_Who is going to save you?_

_**Who is going to save you?**_

Gin's eyes snap open as a gasp tore through his throat. Crimson pupils dart wildly around him, across the unrecognizable dark blurs surrounding him.

Immediately he sat up, silver hair askew and flying into his face, before a rush of dizziness flooded him and he practically fell back down again.

Managing to catch himself on his elbows, Gin forced himself to take several breaths as everything came into focus.

He was in his room. A small frown donned on him, he wasn't really sure how he'd got here.

His eyes wandered over himself. He was laying in bed, with about a million blankets pooling in his lap. Something wet slid down his face from his forehead, leaving a cold trail and landed with a 'plop' on his hand as he stared blankly at the blankets.

Gin blinked once and looked at the wet towel.

_What the…?_

Grabbing the towel, he noticed the dark blue of his sleeve instead of his standard shihakushō.

"When did I change into my yukata?" he murmured confusedly, raiding his memory but only coming up with a nauseating headache.

"Since you insisted on walking home in the rain and caught the flu."

Now when Gin had asked his question, it had primarily been directed at himself, since he had thought that there had been no one else in the room to direct it at. So needless to say, he was something more than a little surprised to receive an answer that was not his own in his aforementioned _solitude_.

Like a torpedo, he whipped around, reiatsu sharper than needles and pupils shrunken to red dots against his white corneas.

"Oh my, now _that_ is a face to be feared," a voice weaved out, from the darkness.

Gin's head immediately snapped toward the direction of the sound. The voice's tone was smooth baritone and as he made out the two glinting squares in a small corner of his room, a feeling of dread invaded him.

"Need somethin' Aizen-taichou?" Gin asked, coldly pleasant, grin riding up his face and his eyes squinting down.

"Not anything you could give me, Gin," Aizen stepped out of the dark, eyes glittering, "Not anything _anyone_ could give me."

Though Aizen made an effort into controlling it, there was a carved hunger in those words that does not go amiss. Gin felt it slowly lurk in the walls.

"Well in that case," Gin turned to look at his former captain, in all his messed up glory, "Hope you be havin' a nice day, Taichou."

"It's not day anymore, Gin," Aizen gestured slightly to the window, with a single nod of his head, "You've slept through basically all of the day."

Indeed, the sky was a dark blue with small stars twinkling clearly overhead, not a storm cloud in sight.

The scent of medicine and herbs suddenly realized itself upon his nose. Gin could already feel the groan rising out of him. Unohana had been here. He must've really been sick to have needed the Fourth Division Captain herself to come over.

"Well, I really see no reason for you to be in this predicament," Aizen's smile was cold and amused, "You could've simply just stayed the night instead of wasting a whole day away like you just did."

_Not in your life_.

"Did ya come 'ere just ta mock me?" Gin asked, voice steady, "That don't really sound like you Aizen-taichou."

_It sounds more like me_.

Aizen's brown eyes narrow slightly for a moment, behind the lenses of his glasses.

"Don't kid yourself, Gin. I don't have the time or the interest in ridiculing my subordinates meaninglessly."

Gin grinned lightly, as Aizen folded his arms, his long hands disappearing into the white sleeves of his haori.

"I came to inform you that the next step of the plan has begun."

For some reason, his heart skipped a beat at the words.

Gin's face morphed into one of shock, "You mean…"

Aizen nodded, "They have captured Kuchiki Rukia successfully. I must congratulate you on your idea. Kuchiki-taichou and Abarai-kun were the perfect ones to send for her."

Gin said nothing for a moment, trying to wrap his aching head around the idea.

The last time he had seen Rukia was when she had been leaving for her assigned area in Karakura town. He couldn't forget the shape of her wide violet eyes upon that breakable face.

_Oh, how they looked at him with that paralyzed terror_.

A small giggle rose from his throat before he knew it, virulent and delighted. It _would_ be interesting to see little Rukia-chan again.

In the back of his skull, the voice whimpered.

"I'd get prepared Gin," Aizen walked over to his door as he talked, "Those children are arriving soon."

And before Gin could say anything, the door was sliding open and closing again. Then there was emptiness and the only sounds are of the voice, still so annoying and insistent.

_This is wrong. This is wrong. This is all so wrong._

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**"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it."**

**Terry Pratchett**


	6. Different Shades of Silver

Escape the Storm - Chpt. 6

**Disclaimer: **Bleach belongs to dear Kubo-sensei, no matter how much we all wish otherwise.

A/N: Alright! Chapter Six is up! At this pace I can probably finish this story by, uh, let's see...TWO YEARS FROM NOW! Ugh, I can honestly say I've never hated school so much in my entire life and that's _with _all the times I've already said I hated school back in elementary.

It's like all the teachers get together at each others houses so they can assign the exact same amount of work, give the exact same amount of time, and make them due on the EXACT SAME DAY.

Sigh. Well enough of my ranting.

**Summary of Story So Far (SSSF): **Things are beginning to heat up in Soul Society as everyone's bristling over the possible ryoka invasion. Aizen plays dirty, Kira's worried, Rangiku's frustrated and Gin's wandering around with a high fever and a ruffled soul.

Four separate quotes this chapter, one for each section. I decided to make this from the perspectives of the three characters closest Gin. Each character has a different image of Gin and that's what he appears as for them.

I also wanted to make clear that this story will take place during the events of the actual Soul Society arc. The purpose is to delve into Gin's warped psyche if in theory, he had a conscience and was offered an escape route by Aizen. So in other words, Escape the Storm is more of a psychological story than an action-packed one.

There's going to be action of course, but it's going to be held at the minimum to the battles Gin participated in during Soul Society arc.

With that said, I still hope you will continue reading after this revelation. Please Enjoy And Review!

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**Different Shades of Silver**

When Kira woke up this morning he was anticipating many things. He expected paperwork, training sessions, complaining subordinates, and a gigantic migraine towards the end.

However, the one thing he _wasn't _anticipating was for his captain to suddenly grow a stubborn streak.

"Taichou," Kira asked, for what he felt was the hundredth time, "Are you _sure _you should be up right now?"

Gin sent him a mildly annoyed face, though Kira couldn't see it because of the smile.

"I keep tellin' ya Izuru," he shook his head, and the slightly nauseated look that came with the gesture doesn't go amiss to Kira, "I'm fine."

Kira gave his captain an unconvinced look. To his credit, Gin did look _a lot _better than earlier, though his cheeks were still flushed and his steps were wobbly. It didn't mean that he was ready to leave his bed yet though.

It had only been a few hours ago after all that his Captain had stumbled inside the office.

He had been getting ready to head out to the training grounds to supervise the exercises, when Gin had suddenly appeared like a phantom in the doorway.

After a mild cardiac arrest and a scrambling to help Gin to his chair on Kira's part, he immediately tried to convince his captain to return to his room. Yet strangely, Gin had been completely adamant about going to the training exercise today.

Kira felt his eyebrows furrowing at the memory and he pressed his chin into the palm of his hand. Gin wouldn't even go to the training exercises _normally_. The competence of their subordinates had gradually became more of his responsibility to oversee than his captain's. It was hard to believe that a little illness would suddenly start making him care.

He just couldn't figure it out.

"Um, sir?" Kira found his mouth blurting out and felt his eyes growing wide afterwards at the blatant lack of self control. He had to scramble for words when his captain recieved him with a half-interested glance.

"Uh…Is there…any particular reason that you would like to supervise the training today?"

Gin arched an eyebrow, appearing rather amused with the smile still in place, "Is there somethin' wrong with me going to check on my division's progress, Izuru?"

"N-no, of course not sir." Kira said quickly, shaking his head rapidly back and forth.

"Then there's yer reason," Gin replied, with a hint of finality, "Besides, I was pretty much conked out for the whole day yesterday. I probably missed a ton."

Kira was about to open his mouth to reply that he really hadn't missed anything at all, when a sudden chill made the hairs on the back of his neck snap up. The inside of his mouth went dry and he clamped it shut.

"Who knows?" From his seat, Gin tightened his grin as his gaze rested on his trepidated lieutenant, casual nonchalance rolling from his lips, "There might be somethin' _interesting _happening realsoon. Wouldn't you say, Izuru?"

The way the words were phrased sent chills down Kira's spine.

He was being scrutinized, like a bug in a jar. After years of serving under the man, Kira had developed a certain understanding for his captain's somewhat eccentric actions. He had to. He wouldn't have made it this far otherwise.

And right now, Gin was testing him for what he knew. What, he wasn't sure, but it was obvious it was something big, something able to catch his captain's attention.

Kira took a moment to dig through his head for any recent pieces of knowledge that his captain could possibly be interested in. None came to mind.

"Of course, sir." He said instead, with lack of anything better.

And whether it was a sufficient answer or not, Gin's grin magnified. The smile was forced and completely fake. Kira thought he appeared much like a child with a dirty plan.

Although he's not sure how it was even possible his captain could've known anything more than him.

Gin had been completely unconscious by the time Captain Unohana had arrived yesterday morning and for the duration of the rest of the day. He could remember quite clearly how the doctor had leaned over his prone form, a gentle line of concentration and worry on her forehead. Kira had been in the corner after all, fiddling nervously with his sleeves.

No one could gather information when practically comatose, not even Gin.

A sharp screech interrupted his thoughts and Kira snapped back to attention as he saw the elder shinigami push back his chair. He was about to open his mouth to question him, when he noticed his captain planting both hands firmly on his desk with a determined look on his face.

Kira was already by his captain's side by the time the dizzy spell hit him, catching his captain by the wrist before he could fall and managing to loop his arm over his shoulders again. He grunted slightly as sudden extra weight leaned against him.

Gin frowned lightly for a moment at the wall in front of them, as if he wasn't really sure of what had happened. Then his lips pulled back into their signature smile once more and he faced his lieutenant, .

"Thanks fer catchin' me Izuru," he chirped merrily, "I'm so lucky ta have such a helpful little lieutenant."

Normally, he would've blushed from the flattery, but Kira was already too concerned about his captain to give it much thought.

The white arm touching his bare neck was scorching to the touch.

"Taichou, you're bringing your fever back up again," he said, trying to sound persuasive, "Unohana-taichou said that you weren't suppose to be out of bed until tomorrow. You're going to push yourself too hard at this rate."

He wasn't sure if he imagined it or not but for the fraction of a second, Gin's practically omnipresent smile faded. He really hoped he wasn't.

It was almost abnormal in its own right that his captain would want to be out of bed before he was ready anyway, for _work_ of all things too.

From what he's seen, Gin enjoyed luxury _a lot_. He adored attention and being pampered and fussed over, especially if it got him out of his responsiblities for the day.

An insistent tug on a lock of blonde hair brought Kira back from his thoughts once again. Gin was looking at him with a slightly impatient expression.

"C'mon Izuru, we wouldn't wanna have everyone waitin' fer us," he pointed at the office door to emphasize the point, completely ignoring his words, "Be a dear and help Taichou outside okay?"

He then turned his head away from him silently, which Kira had long ago deciphered to mean he expected to be obeyed without any further comments.

Letting out an irrepressable sigh, Kira layed his other hand on his captain's shoulder. His mouth twitched at the feeling of the bony skin upon his fingers. It wasn't as hard the second time around. He wondered if his captain even noticed how easily he could touch him now, when he use to jump even when their sleeves breezed by each other.

He probably already had, though his captain wasn't known for caring a whole lot about such things.

Grasping the wrist in his hand gently but firmly, Kira helped his captain shuffle rather ungracefully out the door and onto the training grounds. It wasn't an easy task.

His captain weaved around drunkenly, shaky on his usually nimble feet and fever clouding his eyes. It had been near impossible to get themselves down the steep stairs and onto the cobblestone walkway. Twice, Kira had already stopped because he thought his captain was going to collapse on him.

Their sandals on the cobblestone sounded strange with their nonrhythmic movements. And by the time they finally got to the training grounds, Kira saw that Toma had already started the sessions.

The division members were practicing katas, their movements disturbing the morning dew upon the courtyard grass. The air sparkled as the sun reflected upon their blades and the sound of pants and metal filled his ears.

Toma was sitting in a chair on the platform up front, overlooking them with a vaguely bored expression on his face. The Third-Seat was a muscular man, with cropped black hair, a jagged scar down his right cheek and a bright red bandanna over his head. Kira proceeded his half-drag, half-carry of his captain towards him.

As if sensing him, Toma turned around grinning, ready to send his superior a hearty greeting. It vanished as quickly as it appeared after he caught sight of the lanky form leaning rather heavily on the younger man.

"Ichimaru-taichou!" Toma couldn't help exclaiming, forgetting about the men, who had stopped their exercises in surprise. Kira watched as they turned confusion, some of their jaws dropping open in absolute shock. It was almost pathetic.

Toma was on his feet in an instant and bounding down the stairs, reaching them in three long strides.

"Let me help you out there, fukutaichou," he murmured, and without waiting for a reply, he took Gin's other arm and gently looped it over his neck.

Kira sent him a grateful look. Gin smiled.

"Well, good morning Toma-san," his eyes became two squinting lines, "Nice day isn't it?"

Toma nodded placatingly, "It sure is, Taichou."

He sent Kira a questioning look but Kira could only shake his head. Together, they steadily walked their captain to the platform. Kira felt the division members' eyes on them the whole way. He didn't blame them.

Gin was so withdrawn from his division's affairs that some of the newer recruits hadn't even seen him outside of formal gatherings. Kira wouldn't have been surprised if some of them only knew who he was by the white haori that he was wearing.

"What are you all looking at?" Toma yelled at them, once he caught them staring, "I didn't say you could stop!"

The older members quickly went back to their katas. It took the younger ones a few more seconds of staring before following reluctantly. Kira sighed; they would need to work on that. A sound of slight bemusement came from his side and Kira turned to his captain questioningly.

The wide grin that met his gaze made his heart skip a couple of beats.

A horrible chill ran up and down Kira's body and for a moment, he could only stare back. He could feel his body going into automatic and his feet moving numbly under him. But the smile has pinned him there. Everything else soon faded into the background, releasing only an incessant buzz.

It was a simple curve of his captain's thin lips that held more intimidation than a thousand Hollows ever could. A predator's smile. A starving predator's.

Kira could feel the hairs shooting up at his neck. It was almost amazing, in a grotesque way, how much fear his captain could install in others. With one smile, Kira suddenly felt small and vulnerable, like an insect scuttering around on the floor. And his captain was above him, healthy and grinning as ever, his shoe hovering teasingly above his head.

He refused to admit that it was something to be admired, that it was something he _did _admire.

He swallowed hard twice to get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. His captain arched one thin silver eyebrow, but said nothing. In an almost mocking way, he redirected his wandering gaze.

Immediately, as if being released from a cage, Kira's eyes fell to the cobblestones at their feet. His teeth chewed lightly at his bottom lip.

Kira traced out the shapes of the cobblestones with his eyes until they had reached the platform. Toma grabbed the chair he had been sitting in previously and Kira quickly lowered Gin onto the seat.

He was expecting a tease or maybe a feigned word of gratitude, however Gin said nothing, as he quietly folded his arms, his gaze directed at the practicing shinigami. His smile seemed highly amused.

To say they were trying to impress him was an understatement.

The shinigami had long ago abandoned their katas to do sparring, though it had pretty much exceeded that point to short of spearing each other in the chest. Some of them were doing long complicated footwork, while others were doing unnecessary flips that helped them gain less than four feet of distance.

"What the?" Toma muttered, baffled for a moment, before getting frustrated, "We haven't even gotten to the sparring session yet."

He moved forward as if to jump into the fray of inexperience and scream himself hoarse. A white hand sprung out in front of him and froze the heavy-set man in his tracks.

"Don't be like that, Toma-san." Gin said, his voice lilting and slightly slurred, "Let them have their fun. They look like they're enjoyin' themselves ta me."

Gin turned slightly to his left, hand still outstretched in front of his Third-Seat to look at his lieutenant.

"Wouldn't ya say, Izuru?"

Kira snapped his head up at his name, before nodding quietly, "Of course, Taichou."

Gin grinned at him before turning away, letting his hand drop from its position. Toma stayed in place.

Kira suddenly felt ashamed.

Serving under Gin wasn't something easy. Kira had learned this quite early off. The man spoke in naunces and barely concealed jibes, disappeared on a whim and never got his work done unless Kira was nipping at his heels.

To be in the Third Division, adaptablility was a must, flexibility coming in for a close second.

But Kira hadn't minded. He had taken the workload, patiently sat through all of Gin's teasing, and gently pushed his captain back on track with the paperwork when he got too distracted. He never once had regretted his decision.

Oddly, Gin's cold nature was more welcoming than Captain Aizen's benelovent aura had ever been.

"_I don't get you, Kira,"_ Renji had said once, while shaking his head repeatedly, _"Out of all the divisions out there, why'd you choose the __**Third**__? Do you get off on that bastard using you like a dish rag?"_

Kira socked Renji that day. It got him a broken nose, a black eye and a week of grumbles and swear words. He wasn't sure why, but he had the instinct need to pummel anyone who spoke ill of his captain.

Not that Renji had been wrong though, with his qualifications he could've chose any division he wanted. He could've gone to Seventh Division under Komamura's steadfast supervision, or to live the easy life at the Eighth, or to the Thirteenth where Ukitake would've welcomed him with eager, friendly eyes. He could've, not that he wanted to and in the end, he hadn't chose any of them anyway.

Gin had chosen him.

"_I need someone ta depend on," _his captain had said, grinned, "_I need a good lieutenant."_

Kira would've liked to think he'd accepted out of respect, but it was nothing as clean as that. Kira had accepted out of guilt.

Because he has always dreamed of the day that Gin would ask him and despaired about it as well. Because he felt like he could fly when Gin complimented him and also that he could fall at the same time.

Because even after so many years serving under the man, some tiny part of Kira was still deathly, _deathly _afraid that his captain would leave him behind if he couldn't be what he wanted.

And his captain was relying on him not to feel this way. A good lieutenant did not suspect his captain.

"Ichimaru-taichou! Kira-fukutaichou!" a yell shattered Kira's thoughts like a bullet, and then a second later the heavy thundering of feet on wood.

Everyone stopped in their tracks as Kira whirled around in the direction of the voice. Gin was grinning again.

A dark-haired boy came sprinting around the corner of the barracks. His frenzied brown eyes locked with them in an instant and came rushing up with relief.

He dropped down into a kneel right away and panted out his name in a garble of words that Kira couldn't even discern. The poor boy looked like he'd been running all over Soul Society. The division members came closer in curiosity, like animals regarding a piece of shiny glass.

Kira waited a moment to see if his captain was going to say anything and when he didn't, he walked forward to the boy, "What's the matter?"

"I've," he was still trying to catch his breath, "I've been told to inform all divisions of the news."

Kira felt his eyebrows raising, "News?

The boy nodded, "Yes sir, regarding the status of one Kuchiki Rukia."

Understanding sparked in Kira's eyes, "Ah, so they've found her."

From his chair, Gin's smile unknowingly widened.

"Yes, sir," the boy said again, before suddenly looking very sick, "she is to be executed."

It was like a shower of ice had hit him as the words reached his ears. Kira felt his mouth falling open. The division members exploded into a flurry of whispers and gasps. Toma looked too surprised to quiet them.

_Execution_. A sentence of death.

"What? Execution? For transferring shinigami powers?" Kira heard himself questioning, "Since when has something as minor as a misdemeanor become death penalty-worthy?"

He didn't know Kuchiki Rukia that well. He could count on one hand the amount of times he's exchanged any words with her, most of the time it was because she was with Renji.

_Oh God, __**Renji**_**.**

The boy shook his head helplessly, "I'm not sure, sir, but Central 46 has casted this as their final decision. The date is in 25 days."

No one noticed Gin's smile fade away into a frown.

"They just decided this?" Kira continued incredulously, "Haven't any of the captains made appeals to them?"

"Ukitake-taichou, Kyoraku-taichou, and Aizen-taichou did speak out about it, but in the end Central 46's word is the law."

"So the—"

"Hey, can I ask ya a question?" Gin's high, debonair voice made the words freeze in Kira's throat. The whole division immediately went silent as all eyes turned towards their captain. Kira also turned confusedly towards his captain. He wasn't smiling anymore.

The messenger looked at Gin while visibly gulping. "O-of course, Ichimaru-taichou."

Gin didn't say anything for a moment as he turned in his seat to gaze at the boy directly. The boy flinched quite noticeably and almost tried to scoot back, before catching himself.

"In the maximum penalty of a convict's execution, there's usually allowed a grace period of one month, isn't there?"

There was a brief silence, before the boy realized it wasn't a rhetorical question and nodded his head quickly, "Yes, sir."

Gin grinned hard, his lips pulling back to reveal pearly rows of teeth, "_So why exactly, is the execution gonna be held five days early?_"

There was danger laced in his words. Kira's eyes widened slightly at the revelation his captain had just made. Clearly, the situation was more complicated than he already thought it to be, especially if it was enough to ruffle his usually blithe captain.

The messenger looked more anxious than ever, swallowing repeatedly. A light sheen of sweat was appearing on his face.

"We've…we've received information that Kuchiki Rukia had formed ties during her time spent in the Living World. It is possible that there might be a rescue attempt." The boy swallowed again, "Central 46 wants her executed before then."

Kira had to swallow the gasp that he almost let loose. He couldn't believe how harsh Central 46 was being.

"I see, _Central 46 _wants that, huh?" Gin repeated in a strange tone, "Soutaichou must be goin' out of 'is mind."

The messenger nodded slowly, "He…He actually ordered for divisions to stand guard behind the gate at different points. If the ryoka do make it into Rukongai, they will most likely try to breach Soul Society from the gate."

A wave of unease rose from the shinigami members at the thought of unknown intruders inside the white walls. Toma had finally recovered enough to send them a glare.

Kira blinked in disbelief at the messenger. If he recalled correctly, Kuchiki Rukia was a small thing, delicate and petite. It was hard to imagine that someone as fragile-looking as her could send Soul Society into a disarray.

"Taichou?" Toma asked quietly, walking up to Gin's right side, "What are your orders, sir?"

Gin was silent, and for a moment Kira can almost hear the cogs turning in his captain's head. Then, Gin suddenly turned toward Toma, a big grin on that strained his pale face.

"Orders? Ya heard what Soutaichou said didn't ya, Toma-san? Send yer squad out to the western section of the gate."

Kira stared at his captain in bewilderment. The division members and Toma were also looking rather puzzled.

"Taichou," he spoke up, knowing that he was really the only one who could, "When Kuchiki Rukia left she went through the portal at the eastern side. Shouldn't we be guarding that portal instead sir?"

Gin's expression didn't change.

"Just stick with the western section, Izuru," he chirped, "Trust me."

And at those two words, it was like a cool comforting breeze had lifted him up, erasing all hesitation. Kira nodded immediately, his posture straightening. "Yes sir." _I trust you._

"Good boy," Gin smiled as if he could hear his thoughts, before turning towards the messenger shinigami, still kneeled on the ground before him, "You can go tell Aizen-taichou that."

The boy's jaw dropped in shock. "H-how did," he stuttered, alarmed, "H-how did you know Aizen-taichou sent me?"

"It wasn't that hard to figure out," Gin said cryptically, before looking at Kira, "I told ya things were gonna get interesting."

His captain sent him a grin that, although Kira wasn't sure if he had imagined it or not, seemed the tiniest bit sorry.

* * *

"**Loyalty is a feature in a boy's character that inspires boundless hope."**

**Sir Robert Baden-Powell **

* * *

Aizen pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his finger as he finished reading another report. Times like these, he wished that he didn't have the bothersome things.

The lens were just regular glass after all. The thought of gentle men always sporting glasses seemed too comical for Aizen not to incorporate onto himself. It wasn't like they changed anything he saw. The world was still rotting and there was still no God at the seat of Heaven's throne.

A hard thump from outside his room interrupted him. Less than a second later, the door slid open quietly.

Aizen reached for another report, and without turning around said, "I'm impressed you managed to get through Hinamori-kun. That girl is like a bloodhound when it comes to sensing reiatsu."

"It wasn't that hard," the voice said from behind, "She was too busy lickin' the ground you walked on."

Aizen heard the venom laced into the sarcasm and couldn't help smiling gently.

"Are you sure you shouldn't be in bed?" he pushed up his glasses again, "Your health is the most important thing after all, Gin."

He could hear the rustle of cloth as Gin glided into the room, the door slid close practically silent.

"Stop pretendin' Aizen-taichou," Gin said, coldly, "We both know you don't give a damn."

"Quite true," Aizen replied evenly, "I see Koga has gotten the message to you. I'm glad. That boy seems so fidgety sometimes. I thought that messenger would be the best j—"

"Why did you move up the execution date?" Gin interrupted bluntly, no pretty words or roundabout ways this time.

For a moment, the room was suffocated in silence as he drilled holes into Aizen's back. Then quietly, Aizen set down the report.

He turned slowly around. The room was filled with lamps that glowed yellowish orange and gave the place an appealing warmth about it in the eark night. With his silver hair and white skin, Gin looked like a single snowflake surrounded by flames.

"To make it fair of course," Aizen replied, as if it was a stupid question, "You don't expect me to give you a whole month to worm your way into her heart do you?"

Gin's scowl was his only reaction.

"I'd figured you'd enjoy it more this way as well," Aizen continued, reaching up to run a hand through his auburn hair, "Games are usually more fun with time limits aren't they?"

"You sure like ta play with people a lot," Gin said, eyebrows furrowed, tone sharp.

"You are many things, Gin," Aizen smiled with narrowed eyes, "Hypocritical is not one of them."

And when his ex-lieutenant looked away, Aizen felt a excitement pulsing through his body. He has lived in Seireitei for a time longer than he even wished to remember, but never has he met someone like Ichimaru Gin.

The boy was like a ray of salvation amongst fools and boredom. He was a loose cannon, that realized he was being used and _allowed _it too when it served his purpose. It made the capricious man deadly inside all of Aizen's methodical planning.

And Aizen found it so fun trying to tame him too.

"Central 46 is dead," Gin said after a while. It wasn't a question.

Aizen nodded calmly, "Yes they are."

Gin didn't say anything else after that, so Aizen said instead.

"The ryoka children will be here in approximately ten days," Aizen said offhandly, "There's a boy that I want you to keep an eye on."

"And who would that be?" Gin almost spat. He didn't want to talk about the fucking ryoka brats right now. It was their suicidal mission that had triggered the voice, leaving him confused and annoyed with himself.

"A boy with orange hair and a sword as tall as him." Aizen said, voice soft and gentle but laced with underlying malice, "Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Kurosaki Ichigo." Gin repeated experimentally on his tongue. A boy with orange hair and a zanpakuto as tall as him. Sounded certifiably insane enough to come after dear little Rukia-chan.

"I'm sure you'll find him an interesting boy," Aizen smiled, his eyes dark, "And if he disappoints, Urahara Kisuke is sending along three others as well."

Gin doesn't ask where Aizen got his information from. _God performed miracles, or at least acts of impossiblity._

Gin had never really believed in God when he was alive.

"Aizen-taichou, yer crazy," Gin stated almost emotionlessly, as if it needed to be said, as if the magnitude of what the man was planning to do has just hit him.

Aizen's glasses glint and hide his malicious eyes behind a screen of reflected light.

"No man is sane without the smudge of madness within, Gin," Aizen chided lightly, as if a parent scolding a misbehaving child, "And I thought I told you already..."

In the lamps' warm glow, shadows danced upon Aizen's face and for a moment Gin can see his true form underneath. It was smirking as always, knowing, _vicious_. A long hand reached up to run through slicked back auburn hair.

"Hypocrisy doesn't suit you."

_Let the games begin._

_

* * *

  
_

"**The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use the words."**

**Philip K. Dick**

_

* * *

  
_

_It was weird that he always found himself coming back to her whenever he had a meeting with Aizen._

_Not that he didn't like it or was going to stop. He had a feeling he would be coming a lot more. _

"Is this going to become some regular occurence?" Rangiku muttered in annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest as she sat on her bed. She was dressed in her regular yellow sleeping yukata, although she had thrown a purple comforter over her shoulders as well.

"Ya know me, I just can't stay away." he replied cheerily back as he pushed open the windows. Moonlight rushed into the dark room, the shadows of the long willowy trees dancing along behind it. Gin silhouetted in the opening, arms down calmly at his side as he took in the sight of her nestled in her bed.

Rangiku held back the slight gasp she almost let loose. Shadows patterned his pale face, so the sliver of his glimmering teeth shined like a blade. His silver hair was swaying gently against his forehead. The white light outlined his every curve, from the edge his billowing white captain haori to the tip of his skeletal spider hands.

It only served to remind her of how beautiful he truly was.

Gin placed one foot on the ledge of her window, and with a fluid motion, lept onto the ledge and onto her carpet. It was like watching a ghost float into her room. He landed silently, the only sound was of his robes fluttering softly down behind him. He turned and gave her a grin that still made her heart thump wildly in her chest.

"You sure don't _look _sick to me," Rangiku said, turning her head away, feeling like a teenager all over again.

The grin he had on dampened slightly.

"Maa," Gin pouted lightly, "Did Izuru tell you that? He's always worryin' bout something. I'm fine."

"You were sick that night," She said, ignoring him, "In this room. That night with the storm." _With me_.

He's silent for a moment and Rangiku wondered how exactly he was going to try to lie his way out of this one. Gin had said something to her that night. Something that had explained every single question that had haphazardly floated into her head. Something that had told her exactly how she could catch him and never let him go. Only she hadn't been listening. She hadn't understood. And she was so desperate for him to say it again.

The silence seemingly stretched forever before Gin finally said, "It was jus' a lil' cold, Ran-chan."

She knew he would say that. She _expected _he would say that. And yet some part of her still wished that he hadn't. The same part that was still baffled by how much he simply didn't care about himself.

Rangiku closed her eyes for a moment and counted backwards from ten. Then from twenty. Then from thirty.

For someone so perceptive and clever, he was surprisingly slow when it came to his own matters. Rangiku found herself so angry that she couldn't even describe it in words. She was angry because he didn't take care of himself. She was angry because he lied and expected her not to give a shit. She was angry because even after all these years, she hadn't noticed a single thing.

Rangiku took two deep breaths to calm herself before opening her eyes. Gin's grinning face was hovering an inch from hers, their noses practically touching.

"Get the hell away, Gin," she growled, shoving him roughly and wondering when the hell he had gotten onto the bed in the first place.

Gin flopped backwards on her mattress like a rag doll before bouncing back up again.

"Yer angry wit' me," he said slowly, as if just realizing it.

"Damn straight." she growled back, before making the mistake of looking him square in the eye.

The smile had slipped from his face and his mouth was now a solemn line. His eyebrows had risen high enough they practically fringed upon his silver bangs in confusion. His cheeks were still slightly flushed with fever, giving himself a rather childish expression.

Rangiku felt her anger being slowly doused out at the sight. She supposed she couldn't blame him for it. No matter how prodigious, or how strong, or how powerful, in the end, Gin was still Gin. _A child who could never understand what he did wrong_.

She felt a sigh breeze pass her lips.

"You are such an idiot," she muttered, as she crawled toward him. She stopped, the mattress creaking softly, when her knees were practically touching the ankles of his long crossed legs. Her long orange hair poured over her shoulders to brush against his chest. With one hand she cupped his white cheek, before leaning in to kiss him gently.

Rangiku felt the grin grow back again sharp against her. He pushed back eagerly, his lips cold against hers. It was like kissing a corpse. A grinning corpse that smelled of jasmine.

A pink tongue felt its way lightly around her closed mouth and she parted them quickly to let it through. It prodded around inside her, grazing her teeth and twirling around with her tongue. She felt herself moving closer and closer, until she was almost on top of him—their lips still connected. It was only until she had let her hand crawl into the thin folds of his hakama that he did something she thought he'd never do.

He stopped.

The tongue retreated from her mouth like a wounded beast. A cold bony hand clamped down on her wrist and pulled her hand from him far rougher than she knew he meant to be.

"Gin?" She questioned softly, her puzzled crystal eyes regarding him.

He doesn't reply to her as he released her hand. Resting his head back lightly against the wall, his eyes scrunched shut and his mouth opened slightly. She could hear the slight gasps of air passing through it.

"Gin?" She said again, with more concern, "Are you okay?"

Gin looked up for a moment at her and waved his hand in a careless gesture, "I'm fine. I'm fine," he directed a reassuring smile at her, though it looked more tired than anything else, "Jus' got a lil' dizzy is all."

But the rosy tint his cheeks were turning said otherwise.

Worry growing steadily, Rangiku shot a hand out to rest on his forehead, and almost immediately pulled back again.

"Gin, you're burning up!" she practically exclaimed, though she forced it down to a harsh whisper. Kira hadn't been exaggerating.

"It's nothing," he insisted, though he was still trying to catch his breath, "I'm fine, Ran-chan. Just...just give me a sec."

"My ass!" she retorted, slender eyebrows furrowed in concern and frustration, "You almost lit my hand on fire! That doesn't qualify as _fine _to me!"

And before he could say anything else, she had grabbed the silky purple comforter from around her shoulders and threw it around him.

Gin was so surprised by the sudden motion that his eyes snapped open wide, revealing to Rangiku glazed and shocked crimson pupils.

"Hold on," she commanded looking straight into them, while making sure the blanket was securely over him, "I'm going to go get Unohana-taichou."

"No," he said, his voice slightly tight, "She doesn't need to come."

"What are you talking about?" she asked incredulously, "We kiss for fifteen seconds and you're gasping like a dying fish! You're only going to get worse at this rate."

As she spoke, Rangiku was already touching the floor with the tip of her toes. She had just hoisted herself to her feet and was about to go running out of the room, when the same long white hand pulled her back down.

"No, Ran-chan," he whispered, the shadows of his hair hiding his eyes, "Stay here."

Rangiku opened her mouth to retort, to tell him to quit being so stubborn, to stop thinking that he was immune to everything, but as Gin looked up into her eyes, the words froze in her throat and were forgotten.

_"Please."_

It was one word.

One word that was enough to convey the millions of sentences that he would never say.

His crimson eyes, still wide open, shined with something so frenetic Rangiku wondered how she had missed it at all. He wasn't telling her or asking her anymore. He was _pleading _with her.

She use to hope he'd show his weaknesses, to prove that he still knew what it was like, to prove that he was still _human_. Now that she has, she wished they'd never show themselves again.

Rangiku sat down heavily.

"Gin," she sighed, "What's going on?"

He looked away from her. "Nothing."

It wasn't the word she wanted to hear at the moment. The anger from before surged forward violently.

"How can you just keep lying to me like that?!" she exclaimed, anger and hurt twisting her beautiful features, "You go walking around in the middle of a _storm _before crawling in here seriously sick and leaving the next morning in your soaked clothes! You almost suffocated from kissing too long andwhen I said I'd was going to get Unohana-taichou, you freaked!"

He still wouldn't look at her and Rangiku almost felt like grabbing his face and forcing him to make eye contact.

"How can you possibly say it's _nothing_?" she asked, wanting to scream it, though all she could manage was a thick whisper instead.

The air around them went cold, went dead silent. Even the breezes that had came in through the window had stopped. Gin didn't respond, his eyes two small slits again, her blanket still around his shoulders. He stared out at the open window, as if searching for something in the sky.

He'd never looked so lost in his life.

Rangiku pressed her lips into a thin line like an air-tight seal. It hurt to see him like this. It hurt even more that she didn't know how to make it better.

They sat together in an endless silence that seemed to have stretched two eternities, before Gin finally looked at her again.

His face was paler than before, and the shadows that had danced across his face before were filling in all the hollow places now, making it look sunken.

"I ain't lyin' to ya," he said, voice steady and flat, "Nothing's going on. I actually did come 'ere jus' to see ya."

At these words, her heart started pounding so hard in her chest that Rangiku was afraid that he would hear it.

"I use to think that shinigami were saviors," he said, a smile crawling back up his face, "But to keep thinkin' like that ain't gonna make me anything more than useless. I ain't invisible and I ain't a good person either, Ran-chan."

Rangiku would've given anything at that moment to prove him wrong, to disagree. But she can't. She can't lie to him as easily as he can to her.

"Life is just like that, Gin," she said instead, voice shaky and not nearly as calm as his, "It's one big game."

A strange expression passed on his face at her words.

"Ya like games, Ran-chan?"

She shook her head without a minute's hesitation.

"I hate them."

For a moment, the smile on his face looked torn, sad.

"That's what I thought."

Then with nothing left to say, he moved toward her with outstretched hands. They enclosed her against him quickly and then brought her down onto the bed with a soft 'thump.' With his arms entangled behind her back, Gin rested his face upon her chest, the fever burning against her skin. She let him.

"Are you _sure _you're okay?"

And with their bodies tangled within each other like the sun and moon, Gin breathed in Rangiku's warm scent and felt his lips pulling up into a genuine smile.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

_He closed his eyes and lets slumber grab him in its soft fingers._

_The voice laughed, the monster howled, and a part of him wished more desperately than he had his entire life that he could give her the love she so craved._

_That he had any love to give at all._

_

* * *

  
_

"**We are torn between a craving to know and the despair of having known." **

**Unknown**

* * *

"**Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth."**

**Marcus Aurelius**


	7. The Boy in the Blade

Escape the Storm – Chpt. 7

**Disclaimer: **Kubo Tite is _Bleach_'s master and God, and the only one we can ever have that power, is through these fanfics.

A/N: Here's Chapter Seven! Sorry for such a long delay, but school has really been becoming one major thorn in my side.

So, I hope everyone can understand this chapter well enough. I'm not going to explain it just yet though, I want to see if it makes enough sense to be self-explanatory.

Just know that, The Boy in the Blade is not another person or evil spirit that's haunting Gin through the reflection of soup bowls or whatever. He represents a part of him, just like Shinsou and the Voice, and once upon a time, was actually very real.

Please Enjoy and Review!

* * *

**The Boy in the Blade**

_(He remembered blades. _

_Shiny, glinting, silver blades that sent tingles up his fingertips when he touched them—blades that reflected himself onto their sparkling metal surfaces. It was a dim image at first that sparked his interest, and he leaned closer, having never seen such an odd-looking boy before. _

_What stared back was a sharp face devoid of baby fat and the coldest eyes he'd ever seen._

_At first, it was terrifying. There was something all too wrong about his eyes, all too broken, like they were trying to cover up a hollowness underneath. Involuntary shudders shot through him like missiles, as he looked into the eyes of something cold and horrible and hateful._

_And yet, there was this hesitant wonder as well, lingering inside that spread through him quickly enough to press down on his fear. He reached up to touch the white skin of his face, and watched with widened eyes as the boy did the same. He extended a hand toward the blade's edge, his hand hovering inches away from the boy's own white bony fingers. He flexed them slightly. The boy did the same._

_He smiled, and the boy smiled back._

_The fear melted away instantly and he curled his long fingers into his silver hair, felt how soft and cool it was, and a fascination bloomed in his chest)._

_

* * *

  
_

_Then there was blood. Dripping slowly and warmly across his skin._

_Dirty blood._

_There was the sound of flames, crackling cheerfully, burning the world down. The scent of mud and rot was in the air. He took a few deep breaths, almost gagging as he inhaled nothing but smoke. _

_A blade was clenched in his right hand, speckled with crimson, so tightly his knuckles were white and his hand was quivering. A weary ache was clinging to his arms and legs, muscles taut and pale. _

_He had to wait though, be prepared, because as soon as the man got up or woke up or even moved…_

_He was going to stab once and run._

_As soon as he moved…_

_He stood there as the flames grew wildly, the heated pressure pressing against his face, making the wooden beams of huts splinter and break. Shrieks were coming from somewhere in there as well, somewhere far away. _

_A small nervous frown came on his face and he curled his feet into the soft cool earth underneath. The trickle of blood has made its way to his hand, oozing down his white knuckles, a red wine color against the flames. He lowered his gaze slightly, not trusting his eyes to leave the body for a second, and stared at the blood for a moment so hard that he got scared and wanted to scrub it away._

_But he couldn't move…not yet…_

_The man would rise up as soon as he's turned, and strike him down until he's crushed underfoot. He won't take chances like that. He won't end up like the bodies along the road, mangled and ruined by worms and dogs. _

_He won't._

_And a part of him, a loud, screaming mad part, will not let him leave until he has seen the man move anyway._

_Only he hasn't moved…_

_The large monster of a body hasn't moved in ages. He swore he'd been standing here for years now, decades, centuries. The heat of the flames and the heavy scents of smoke and wood were making his vision hazy. _

_It was already getting hard to breathe from where he was, it couldn't possibly be any easier when you were face down in the mud like that. He half-wondered if he should turn him over, but he doesn't want to get any closer, doesn't want to even touch that gigantic lump of flesh with anything but the tip of the dagger. _

_He just needed to wait._

_All he wanted was some movement, a small tick or even a simple twitch of muscle. _

_Always jab up, aim for the lower chest. Make no room for retaliation. Make no room for vulnerability. One thrust and then run. _

_Run and never look back. _

_There was a rush of emotion flowing through him like adrenaline, refreshing and sobered, at the thought of his blade entering the ruddy skin. It sent shivers racing down his spine, not unpleasantly so, with something so akin to anticipation it was terrifying._

_The shrieks in the background were slowly subsiding, getting softer and softer until they were all but consumed by the loud crackles of jubilant flames. The fire has grown so close that it was gorging away at the young trees surrounding him._

_The man still hasn't moved and somewhere in his mind, he can hear rushed, frightened whispers passing shuddering lips._

_What have I done?_

_What have I done?_

_WHAT HAVE I DONE?_

_It wrenched at his heart, racking him with heavy thoughts, he swore cracks were developing in his ears. He hated that sound, those words, that __**voice**__._

_Small fingers constricted the hilt of the dagger, a dull pain emerging from underneath his fingertips. The blade glinted orange in the fire._

_And from the corner of his eye, he caught the odd boy from before. Grinning. Shaking._

_Absolutely and completely tarnished with blood._

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Cling.

Cling.

Cling.

Sigh.

Cling.

Cling.

Cling.

Sigh.

"We only have a few more minutes left, Taichou. Please try to be patient."

"Maa, ya said that _hours _ago, Izuru. There's nothin' happenin' and I'm bored out of my mind over here."

"You could always get started on some of the paperwork that I brought along, taichou."

"…"

Cling.

Cling.

Cling.

Kira raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose lightly, stopping another sigh.

The elder shinigami was currently sulking in the chair next to him, continuously flicking a silver marble at the metal sheath of one poor division member.

Where his captain had managed to find a marble in the first place, he would never know, especially since the Fourth Division tended to sweep the gate areas fanatically. He could only shake his head at the helpless looks sent his way by the poor division member who had the misfortune of serving as entertainment.

It was the Third Division's first day of patrolling at the gate and Gin was already being difficult.

Granted, Kira could recognize that loitering in front of a gate waiting for intruders that might not even exist _could _get rather tedious, but the man had began complaining after the first five minutes!

He supposed it was partially his own fault. His captain had caught a serious case of influenza, and although he had practically recovered in the ridiculous span of two days, Kira wasn't ready to take chances.

It really hadn't helped that he'd woken up this morning to find his captain missing once again. Kira had just about the whole division scrambling around the barracks, before Gin came waltzing through the gate, strangely cheerful. He never explained where he had gone and Kira hadn't asked—the vulnerable, frail side of his captain still at the surface of his mind.

He might've _overreacted _a bit, when he had restricted Gin to sitting around in a chair near the gate.

"Uh…Fuku-taichou?" A rough voice interrupted Kira's worrisome contemplation and he had to stop himself from jumping.

"Yes, Toma?" he asked turning quickly around to face the man, "Did you finish?"

The man stood up straight and nodded, "Yes sir, no disturbances were discovered around the inside of the western section."

Kira nodded too, eyebrows furrowed slightly, "Thank you, gather up the squad and prepare to head back."

Toma bowed once to him and was just about to head off to the gate, when a thought suddenly struck him. He turned around again quickly, looked straight at Gin, and gave a brief salute. "Please excuse me, Ichimaru-taichou." Kira had always known that Toma was a smart man.

Gin gave a distracted wave of his hand as he meticulously inspected the silver marble in his fingers for scuffs or scratches. Toma bowed again and ran off. Kira watched him go—a small frown on his lips.

He still didn't quite understand why they were patrolling the western section of the wall. If the so-called "intruders," had somehow accessed a portal, they would most likely follow Kuchiki Rukia's path and emerge at the eastern section—the section which was currently left unguarded, except for the keeper, Kaiwan. And as strong as Kaiwan was, he was no Jidanbo, and could easily be defeated with a little teamwork and effort. Same went for all the other gates as well.

In fact, the western gate, in Kira's mind, was by far the safest.

Nevertheless, he reigned in his questions. Just what exactly did he know about the situation anyway? It was obvious enough Gin was expecting something from guarding the western side, and he was just going to have to wait to see what. Even as insane and pointless as his captain's orders could sometimes seem to be, there was always a reason behind them—a long-winded, complicated reason, but still a reason.

"Ya thinkin' this is foolish, Izuru?" The debonair voice came from beside Kira, clear and calm, but still making his heart skip a beat anyway.

Immediately, he turned to face his captain. Gin was sitting cross-legged, the silver marble like fluid across his fingers as he deftly rolled it. He was grinning widely, as if it had just told him all the secrets of the world.

"Ya think that West Side's the safest, jus' cause its Gatekeeper's outside?" Gin asked, still smiling at the marble.

Kira shook his head quickly, feeling embarrassed his captain had read him so easily.

"Maa, I can't believe ya trust in Gatekeeper-san's pathetic abilities more than yer own captain's decision," Gin continued, showing no signs of seeing it, his voice turned mockingly woeful, "It's kinda depressing."

"That's not what I think, Taichou!" Kira said hurriedly back, horrified and disgusted with himself for having doubts even after his captain had asked for his trust, "Jidanbo-san is capable of defending the gate, but I hardly think—"

"How well do ya know Gatekeeper-san, Izuru?" his captain interrupted, and Kira's words died immediately, "Really, how well?"

Kira shook his head again, before finding his voice, "N-not very well, sir." He really didn't. He could count on one hand the number of times he's spoken to the giant.

"Nice guy," Gin said casually, as if he did, rolling the marble on top of his thumb, "Always honorable and fair. Kinda got a black and white sort of view of things though. Welcomes people he likes, attacks people he hates. He's just a big kid in reality. Too stupid to understand the ones he's welcoming are the ones he's gotta watch out fer."

Kira felt something sharp drop into his stomach.

"You…you think Jidanbo-san's going to open the gate, Taichou?"

The grin spread on his face, showing a row of pearly teeth.

"Saa, I wonder."

Kira gazed out at Rukongai nervously.

Gin fell silent, not even sparing him a glance. With deadly precision, he flicked the marble hard into the side of the division member's sheath.

Cling.

The man squeaked pathetically, actually being somewhat knocked off balance by the hit. The marble ricocheted like a bullet off the metal and fell smoothly back into his hand. He traced one long pale finger meticulously over the surface, for any chips or scratches.

His grin was fixed firmly in place, betraying no emotion, but one of utmost glee. Not that Kira had expected him to be reassuring anyway, but the fact that the captain was offering no answers either, wasn't helping. An anxious feeling was beginning to form inside him, black and foreboding.

Fortunately, it was then Toma returned with the rest of the squad members. Kira turned quickly, relieved with the distraction.

"Ichimaru-taichou, Kira-fukutaichou," Toma called, the rest of the men jogging up behind him, swords and footsteps clattering across the ground, "We're ready for departure."

Kira nodded, looking back at Gin, "Taichou?"

He received no acknowledgement, except for another grin. Slowly, Gin slunk from his seat, not unlike a cat after a rather fulfilling nap. The division member he'd been harassing looked about ready to faint with relief at finally being relieved of his post. Like a bullet, he scrambled into the crowd of shinigami, his comrades sending him pitiful glances.

"Should I go alert the night guardsmen that we've finished our patrol, sir?" Kira questioned, watching his captain carefully, making sure that he could stand without help.

He could. And it was still amazing to him how his captain had regained his usual grace already, even though he'd been stumbling around like a blind man just yesterday.

Gin turned lightly towards him, confusion written on his face, "Why would ya need ta do that?"

"They need to patrol western section for the night, sir."

Gin gave a curious look at the sun, centered nicely in the sky at mid-afternoon.

"It ain't exactly night right now, Izuru."

Kira sputtered slightly, "I-I'm not talking about right now, Taichou! I meant after dusk when the gate will be guarded again."

Gin arched an eyebrow, "Again? All gates are 'spose ta be guarded twenty-four seven."

This time, Kira was the one that looked confused.

Gin's eyebrow went up a little higher.

"Ya thought we were just gonna leave this place unguarded from noon ta night?" He asked, with an expression that _almost _pulled off incredulity.

Kira felt the blood rising in his face.

"Maa, Izuru," Gin said, looking at his lieutenant with mocking disappointment, "Ya do know how inefficient that'd be don'tcha? I can't 'ave a fuku-taichou that can't even figure that out, without me tellin' him."

A traitorous blush was let loose on his face like a disease and Kira had to bow his head to hide the most of it from his captain and his subordinates. He couldn't believe how stupid he was! It sounded completely ridiculous when his captain said it out loud. And now that he thought about it, the idea that Yamamoto-soutaichou would let them leave the gate unguarded for eight hours straight seemed completely idiotic.

"I apologize for my incompetence, sir."

Gin waved his hand at him carelessly, "I was teasin' Izuru. People make mistakes, ne? Ya don't gotta apologize."

The words suddenly sounded much too serious to Kira's ears. He looked up inquisitively from his slight bow, but Gin had already turned away, his haori swaying with each movement he made.

"Now that I think 'bout it," Gin continued, walking up to his chair, before grinning at his subordinates, "Ya might as well get comfortable, 'cause we ain't allowed ta leave 'til they get here anyway."

And without specifying who exactly 'they' were, he collapsed back into his chair lazily. He moved his hand around for a moment as if flexing his fingers, before the silver marble suddenly reappeared in his palm.

Both Kira and Toma cringed at the horrible, gurgling noise that came from within the crowd of shinigami, as the division member laid eyes on his tormentor once again. Looks of pity and understanding crossed everyone's faces and a few of his colleagues even patted him sympathetically on the back.

Gin however, looked practically delighted with this reaction, and motioned for the man to come over.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cling.

Cling.

Cling.

Gin grinned widely, catching the marble, before flicking it again trying to make each shot harder than the previous one. A horrible dent had already formed on the division member's sheath, and he was wondering how much longer it'd take before he simply punched a hole through it.

And then how much longer it'd take to reach the blade and shatter that as well. He's sure the man would start crying after that, and then he could punish him for being so pathetic, and having a zanpakuto that could break from the hit of a marble.

Just the thought was hilarious.

_Make it go away…make it go away…_

A frown immediately replaced the grin, all traces of humor gone, at the unpleasant sound. His loosely curled fist clenched and he shot the marble more violently than he had intended. It made a loud clinging sound that sent the sword into vibrations and its master into mild hysteria.

…_make it go away…why…it won't go away…_

The marble sailed back towards him at break-neck speed and Gin snatched it from the air as if it was a feather. Couldn't it just _shut up_? Couldn't it tell he was _trying_?

…_still there…still there…monster…_

Good mood now gone, he sent the division member away with a brisk wave of his hand, the man all too happy to obey. Slowly, he traced a long finger over the marble again, almost losing it when he felt nothing but smooth metal underneath his fingertips. The boy reflected in the silver grinned madly, dried blood caked at his pale temple, a monster lurking under half-lidded crimson eyes.

Ever since he had returned from Rangiku's, each time he looked upon a reflective surface, the boy was there—in the mirror, in the windows, even in the water of his sink. He scared the voice shitless, which was his only merit, but other than that Gin found him annoying and repulsive. He was already half-tempted to believe that Shinsou was screwing around with him, but the fox hadn't stirred at all since their talk in his inner world.

The boy had came from somewhere inside his own thoughts, haunting him like a small ghost. Gin couldn't help being disgusted.

He was always standing and grinning and drenched in filthy blood. His silver hair was limp and straight. His face was whiter than a skull's. Blood dripped lazily down his arm like a snake.

And there were flames. Flames brighter than the ones in Hell. He can almost feel their heat blanketing him.

He moved his thumb so it covered the boy's grinning face. He wanted to press down and shatter him, from his mind, from his thoughts, from his soul. But there were no cracks. No scuffs. No scratches.

He had been slowly drilling a hole through one of his subordinates' sheath for five hours now. And still, nothing. Gin wasn't a naïve man, no, far from it.

The boy was still part of him, and knew everything that Gin used to be, everything he _still_ _was_, and flaunted it in his face, teasing him with the easiness of greed.

And it was working. Part of him longed for that familiar feeling, cold and empty like the center of storms. Part of him really wanted to be able to feel that happy peace again, knowing he didn't need to worry about anyone but himself.

_Ya know…_

He lifted his thumb, the boy greeting him with his large grin, empty of any amusement.

…_ya were a lot quieter back then._

And just like how the voice never seemed to make any sense, the voice never replied back either.

But then, there was that other part. The part of him once so small that he had no idea it'd even existed. The part that had festered and grown at an alarming rate, ever since he'd met _her_.

The part that wondered what Rangiku would think if she saw him like that. Because she had always been capable of hurting him so much more than Aizen ever could. It was a concept that he never really wanted to delve too far into.

That was why he was almost disturbingly grateful, when he felt the sharp itchy feeling of a blade to his neck.

"I see ya still haven't got over that night," Gin closed his fist over the marble, "Can't ya take a joke, Tousen-san?"

The dark-skinned man hovered over him, his zanpakuto only a hair's breath away from his artery.

"Traitors are stains," Tousen said after a pause, "that need to be wiped from Aizen-sama's new world."

It was perhaps, one of the most hypocritical statements that Gin had ever heard.

"Ah, then ya don't gotta worry 'bout lil' ol' me," he grinned wider, "I ain't gonna ruin anything. Aizen-taichou already told ya that."

The slight twitch of the finger around the blade's hilt, gave the man away immediately. Aizen would always be a man who kept the most important things to himself, Gin knew that well enough.

There was a tentative moment of silence, where Gin stared hard at his closed fist, refusing to even glance at the blade so close to his flesh. The boy was there, grin on his pearly face, blood stained on the tips of his silver hair, mocking him.

It seemed like a good century later before the blade was finally removed.

"It's surprising to see you out here as well," Tousen said, calmly sheathing his sword, "I heard you had taken ill."

Gin sighed. _Did everyone know about that?_

"Jus' a lil' cold is all," Gin drawled out, "Nothing ta worry about."

"I should hope not," Tousen agreed, "any one of us in poor physical condition could make the whole plan fall apart."

Gin grinned, "The treachery theme don't much fit Ukitake anyway."

Tousen's lips flattened into a thin white line and Gin had to keep himself from laughing out loud. The man just made it so easy.

Tousen hated it when he was referred, however remotely, as a traitor. He was still hell-bent on his belief that it was all an act of necessity, a complete fanatic when it came to his twisted philosophies.

He genuinely thought Aizen was a god. A god who had seen how bloody and rotten the world around him was and decided to burn it all away into something new. A selfless act. A selfless god.

And the first time Tousen had told him this, Gin had laughed in his face. No wonder Tousen didn't like him very much.

Which was really a pity, since Gin found him absolutely hysterical.

He was always talking about 'taking the path with the least bloodshed' or however he'd always put it. Either way, it was ridiculous in its sense of stupidity.

All paths were tarnished with blood, and if the man still couldn't acknowledge it, then even Aizen's hypnotism couldn't put him under any deeper a spell. So mesmerized was this man by a world of justice.

"I'm presuming there weren't any disturbances," Tousen said briskly, changing the subject, his voice expectant.

Gin leaned back in his chair indolently, "Nope. They ain't 'spose ta get 'ere for a while."

"Not with the rescheduling," Tousen replied, "Urahara Kisuke will want to speed things along once he finds out."

Though to Gin, it was Aizen that seemed more likely to want to speed things along.

"It should go smoothly though," Tousen continued, "They haven't even moved Kuchiki Rukia into the Shrine of Penitence yet."

"She still in the Sixth Division holdin' cell?"

"Yes, but Kuchiki-taichou said he would have her transferred in a few days."

He turned to smile at Tousen slightly, even if the man couldn't see it, "Looks like Onii-sama ain't gonna help her out on this one." He expected nothing less from cold Kuchiki Byakuya.

"It doesn't seem like he will," Tousen said, "he said he'd inform her of the Central 46's decree right after the meeting."

"Which, judgin' by the time it took for ya ta get 'ere, jus' ended didn't it?"

The nod he received in response, filled Gin with a sense of glee. Perhaps, it was time to pay Byakuya a little visit.

"Are you going to go mock him now?" Tousen asked coolly.

"Me? I ain't gonna do something so cold-hearted," Gin smiled in a nasty way, "Jus' rilin' 'im up a bit."

"You're despicable," Tousen stated simply, disgust laced into his words.

_Perhaps I am_, Gin heard something giggle out in his mind.

"Taichou!" Kira's voice suddenly rang out, and Gin looked up to see his lieutenant running over to him, with Hisagi Shuuhei following at a slower pace. He had to practically skid to a halt to avoid running straight into his superior.

"Taichou, the Ninth Division has arrived to—" he began quickly, before catching sight of Tousen, standing slightly behind Gin, "Tousen-taichou!"

He did a respectful bow, which Tousen acknowledged with a light nod. Hisagi calmly walked up after him, giving Gin a blank stare for a moment, before bowing as well, "Ichimaru-taichou."

Gin 's smile widened as he nodded, feeling waves of contempt coming off the boy. Hisagi Shuuhei had never liked him all that much and it might've been partially his own fault. He couldn't help it.

The way he looked at Rangiku was in every sense of the word unrequited, as it was pathetic. It was so deep an infatuation that Gin swore he could see the flames of passion in his eyes four miles away.

Such 'impossible love' was too much fun to _not _tease at, because Rangiku would always be his and never anyone else's. Gin had made sure Hisagi knew that well.

"Well," Gin directed at Tousen as he rose sluggishly from his chair, "we'll be leavin' the res' to ya then."

Tousen gave him a silent, stiff nod.

Gin grinned, before looking over at his lieutenant, "Ya can go on back now, Izuru. Take Toma-san and the others wit' ya."

Kira gave him a confused look.

"Aren't you coming, Taichou?"

The grin widened, as Gin slowly lifted his right fist, opening his palm slowly. The silver marble glinted in the sunlight with flashes of flames and pearly rows of teeth. It made him wonder slightly, if underneath all the layers of discipline and calm, Kuchiki Byakuya sometimes saw the same thing.

"Nah, I think I'll go visit someone first."

* * *

"**The distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion."**

**Albert Einstein**


	8. Surrender to Hunger

Escape the Storm – chpt. 8

**Disclaimer: **Bleach belongs to Tite-san.

A/N: First off, I just want to thank everyone for being so patient with the slow updates. You've all been very encouraging and wonderful and I can't thank you enough for all your feedback and advice. Now that school's _finally _out, the updates should be coming more regularly as well.

So, did anyone understand what the previous chapter was about? Okay, so the Boy in the Blade is actually child Gin (creepy, unfeeling, borderline sociopath child Gin). He's just like the voice and Shinsou, only he's part of Gin and never speaks (only grins). He's started appearing after Gin spent that second night with Rangiku in her room. It's all in his head of course, there's not actually a little boy living in his sword or mirror, I think of Gin's mind as probably a rather messed up place. Also, just like how the voice represents his conscience and Shinsou represents his darker desires, the boy in the blade represents his past and temptation. He is only seen whenever Gin looks into a reflective surface, so he cannot see himself, but only what he use to be and how easy it was to live back then.

Whew! That was a long explanation, but I hope it made sense. As for this chapter, let's just say that the bet has begun and Aizen's making the first move. And I also crammed a bunch of character relationships into this one chapter too, but I really wanted to move on.

Please Enjoy and Review!

* * *

**Surrender to Hunger**

Gin sauntered slowly down the hollow streets of Soul Society, excitedly following the reiatsu tress of one Kuchiki Byakuya, thinner than spider silk and ten times harder to catch. In an almost detached way, the grin grew on his face. It had been undoubtedly easier back in their academy days, when Kuchiki Byakuya was nothing more than an angry pretty young thing with no rules to follow and no promises to fulfill—his reiatsu raging with his moods like storms.

And now there was barely anything, his reiatsu tucked tightly together, proper, stiff, and completely constricted, mirroring him flawlessly. Gin doesn't mind though, the challenge was entertaining, and Byakuya would not be half as much fun if he did not have such a stubborn mindset on propriety.

The reiatsu pulsed silently to the right and thinned, but Gin felt it almost effortlessly. Tipping his head forward, Gin looked up towards the towering 6th Division buildings with its gracefully curved roofs, feeling the shifting reiatsu coming closer. With anticipation bubbling inside him, he easily flash-stepped onto the hallway floor.

He landed lightly on his feet, his movement almost silent, no sudden dizziness or fever clouding his eyes.

Gin had promised himself long ago no simple illness was ever going to kill him. There were millions of ways to die, but to have it be his own body that betrayed him in the end—Gin wasn't sure he could handle that. And if he was going to have to die one day, be it execution or Aizen, he was _not _going to be left with no one to blame but himself. Not that he was ever going to die.

He was _never _going to die.

With arms hanging limply at his side, Gin walked leisurely toward the reiatsu, nothing lingering inside him other than what had always been there. He rounded a corner, Byakuya's reiatsu still steadily drawing closer, when another one suddenly spiked angrily. Gin did not even think before recognizing its violent pattern, chaotic in a _very _familiar way.

"Heh, figured you would be here."

With his smile still pasted on his face, Gin stopped calmly before turning around. Zaraki Kenpachi was leaned nonchalantly against the wall, his body half-covered by shadows.

"Ara, Juichibantai-taichou-san," Gin greeted politely, "What a surprise findin' ya here."

Kenpachi snorted, "Can't say the same about you though."

Gin tilted his head.

"What do ya mean by that?"

"The Kuchiki said he would tell the girl about the decision right after the meeting," Kenpachi shrugged, like it meant nothing to him, which it probably did, "Only a bastard like you would want to screw around with him after he just told his own sister her execution date."

Gin simply grinned, giving the long, narrow hallway a sideways glance, before walking to the railing. Contrary to popular belief, Zaraki Kenpachi was a pretty sharp guy of above average intelligence. The man could understand true freedom and power and all the other things in life that others don't dare even think about, in fear of being intoxicated. Gin was one who could appreciate such a mind.

It might be interesting having him around when Byakuya came by.

With a ruffle of his haori, Gin boosted himself up to rest on the railing. Zaraki Kenpachi gave him a look that was the closest thing he would ever get to respect. Gin rested his arms on his knees nonchalantly, grin in place.

"Ya don't gotta say it like that," he said, barely keeping the amusement from his voice, "Yer makin' me sound like a real cold-hearted guy."

Kenpachi snorted again, "Not like you give a rat's ass."

Gin liked to think he didn't and ignored the whimper and giggle inside his head.

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna give you shit about it," Kenpachi continued, "You missed a lot, can't blame you for getting bored. Can kill a person. The sheer fucking boredom."

"Ya don't know that,"Gin replied, and remembered a flash of glinting frames hiding sinister eyes, "there's lots more dangerous things out there than boredom."

_Lots more dangerous_, something giggled so coldly it sent a shiver up his neck and the voice added in quietly, in a dull, but resonating murmur.

The cruel are dangerous…are blind…the blind are dangerous too…

Gin held the grin steadily on his face, his fingers twitching slightly.

"I'd love to see that," Kenpachi said, in a disturbingly dreamy way, "There's never been anything else that could kill me."

"Why would ya want there ta be?"

It slipped out almost unconsciously. The smile slid from his face for a few seconds as Gin frowned at his own lack of self-control.

Kenpachi turned to him wordlessly, giving him a strangely knowing look that twisted his stomach and made him feel naked and fathomable. It looked wrong on the man's face, where all he had ever seen was a heavy scowl or a crazed smirk.

Gin had always kept everything to himself. He packed his secrets in tightly together, locked the door, and tried to forget it was even there. They were housed in a dark dank corner of his mind, the black room filled with all his fear and desperation and hatred.

The last thing he would ever need now was for someone to unlock that door.

One hundred years too late…

The voice gurgled in despair.

"Look alive, Ichimaru. He's coming."

For a moment, Kenpachi's gravelly voice morphed together with the voice, creating an indiscernible and highly unpleasant sound. Gin blinked slightly, dazed and was just about to ask Kenpachi to repeat his words, when he caught sight of who was walking down the hall.

With quiet, graceful steps, Kuchiki Byakuya came their way.

He was as composed as ever, white kenseikan not a touch out of place upon his ebony head, his silken scarf waving gently with the breezes he created. Gin felt his lips pulling into a nasty smirk at the tranquil appearance on his face.

Byakuya was discipline personified in an icy, beautiful human shell. Even as Soul Society bristled at the anxiety of execution, even as they took turns guarding their world from unknown invaders, even as he stood through a meeting to schedule _his own sister's _death, Byakuya did not lift an eyebrow. He showed no worry or grief, and he did not try to save her, even if it could've been so easily done.

Some people thought this ruthless, and whispered about his cold heart as if they had a clue. But Gin knew better than that. Playing with the same toy for so long could tell him very interesting things.

And Kuchiki Byakuya's heart was about as cold as the sun.

_Cold heart better than no heart, _the voice whispered miserably, though Gin refused to hear what the voice was implying.

Steadily Byakuya drew closer, though if he had seen them, he showed no sign of it. His face was immovable, set in stone, his sculpted nose raised the slightest bit in the air, like it always was.

The man walked by them without a word, or even acknowledgement, like they were not worth even the slightest bit of his time.

Gin felt his grin grow wider. It must have been the regal demeanor, the underlying arrogance that he could always hear in his deep calm voice that made Gin want to tear him open. To poke and prod and hurt until all of that was gone and nothing's left but something that cried and begged in the dirt.

The monster purred at such vicious thoughts as the voice shuddered in self-disgust.

They only grew louder as the silent man passed him and Gin saw the battle underneath those sheets of thin black ice. One side principle and law, the other his sister's small delicate face. The two warred just underneath Byakuya's hardened onyx eyes, violently, tearing him apart.

But he only caught the glimpse for a second more, before Byakuya brushed past him like he wasn't even there.

_What a shame, he doesn't want to play, _a lofty, mocking voice that was no ones but his own, traveled to his ears, _But then again…_

"You seem awfully calm, Rokubantaichou-san."

…_he never does._

"Excellent, excellent. Imperturbable, even though yer sister's gonna die. Yer an example to us all, Rokubantaichou-san," Gin couldn't keep the mocking sound from his voice, "The ideal soul reaper."

"Stop the nonsense."

The voice surprised him slightly and Gin had to stop himself from turning to look at the source. He had almost forgotten Kenpachi was even there.

"The only shinigami who are scared of dying are you and that Ninth Division Captain."

Most people thought Zaraki Kenpachi was an obtuse and blunt individual. Gin was not one of them.

When he had first became captain, Aizen had told him very specifically, which captains he was to stay away from.

There was Tousen and himself obviously, to avoid suspicion. He was only suppose to talk to Yamamoto when he absolutely had to, not that he had ever wanted to. There was Ukitake and Kyoraku, who were too loyal, too brave, and far too observant behind their kind-hearted smiles. And Unohana, Aizen had been unusually adamant that he spent the least amount of time possible interacting with her.

_The rest are fine, _Aizen had said, smiling cruelly, _it's important to make friends after all._

Gin wondered if Aizen had purposefully left Zaraki Kenpachi out of the warning, though knowing his captain, he probably had.

_Wipe the stains away, _the voice mumbled, trembling.

"Eh?" Gin said quickly, ignoring it, expertly hiding the slight tremors in his voice, "Is that so?"

And he can't even comprehend how relieved he was when Byakuya cut them off abruptly. Something told him that he would not have liked the next few words Kenpachi would've said.

"What do two adjutant-less captains want with me?"

The monster laughed, beating his temples, something like rattling chains came from inside his head. Gin's grin lowered into a sliver of pearly teeth. It had been far too long since he last heard those words.

For as long as they'd both been captains, Byakuya would always ask him the same question whenever they crossed paths. To think that after almost fifty years of the same routine, the man might've figured it out by now.

Gin had never wanted anything from Kuchiki Byakuya since the very beginning. He never had and he never would.

"Well, we were just worried about Rokubantaichou-san bein' depressed about his sister's impending execution."

Byakuya doesn't even blink.

"It is none of your concern."

"Why should you be depressed?" Kenpachi added callously, "The blood of a criminal only stains a distinguished family."

It was dead-on in its accuracy. Gin had seen what was done to criminals of noble families. Part of him still shivered with delight at the memories. The other part still screamed.

_Wipe away the ugly stains…_

Byakuya made a small, unimpressed sound before turning fully around, "How surprising, a commoner who understands the ways of nobility."

The situation was suddenly a thousand times tenser than it had been before. The voice was whimpering again, but Gin ignored it, intrigued by the interaction of what could only be described as polar opposites.

Kenpachi made a noncommittal noise, before getting up from the wall he was leaning against.

"That's not it. I've always been the understanding one. I could help you out." a wolfish grin made it onto Zaraki's scarred face, "Want me to chop off her head before the execution?"

The whimpering was getting louder and incessant. Gin could feel the beginnings of deadly reiatsu leaking from Byakuya, though his face was still impermeable.

"Amazing," He said calmly, though his voice was laced with disgust, "I didn't know that you were able to chop off someone's head at your current level."

The whimpers were impossible to ignore now. Gin had the sudden urge to press his hands down flat on his temples and push until all the noise inside was crushed. Or at least until, he caught sight of Kenpachi's hand wrapped lazily around his sword.

_Make it go away…make it go away…_

"Want to test me?"

"Do you want to be tested?"

Gin does not even have time to get a word in edgewise, before Kenpachi was hastily pulling out his sword, eyes trained on Byakuya's smooth expression. He watched as the blade slid out in a torturously slow motion.

Then all he saw was fire, and blood, and white hands and glossy silver with sadistic smiles. Something sang softly in the background.

_Fear your past and fear your pain and wipe away the ugly stains_…

Not that he had time to ponder, since it was swiftly overwhelmed by the voice's shrieks.

For a moment, everything temporarily blurred into blobs as shrieks ripped through him, raw with fear, terror so bottomless that it was almost unreal. There was such pure, unadulterated horror in the sound that Gin swore cracks were forming behind his ears. His head was breaking, his mind was splintering, his vision was shattering into fragments. It _hurt._

And one of the first things that he has ever learned was to get rid of things that hurt him.

Only half-aware of what he was doing himself, Gin was off the railing in between milliseconds. With a flick of his wrist, white cream bandages slithered out of his sleeves, and within a blink, were wrapped tightly around Kenpachi's arm, jamming the sword roughly back into its sheath.

By the time the older man was blinking confusedly at his hand, now wrapped with white gauze, Gin had already mummified him with it.

But the voice won't stop, and Gin was starting to wonder how much longer it would take for his head to explode.

With his hand wrapped tightly around the tail-end of the bandages, Gin flash-stepped quickly to the roof across from them, dragging Kenpachi's body like a disobedient dog.

He landed smoothly, barely disturbing the tiles, before Kenpachi's large frame came crashing down behind him. With his arms bundled and their height differences, the man landed harshly on his rear. Not that it seemed to affect him at all.

"Ichimaru, you bastard! Untie me! Let me cut him! Let me cut him!"

The man wriggled futilely in his binds, but his protests were barely heard over the screams inside his head.

Gin turned slowly toward Byakuya, who was looking up at them with a cold, blank expression. "Sorry about that, Rokubantaichou-san! It wasn't my intention to provoke you!" he called down to him, lying straight through his teeth.

And then adding in facetiously, "Well, give my regards to the little sister."

With another flash-step he was gone, dragging Kenpachi's large body behind him.

He flash-stepped from one roof to the next, the soles of his sandals barely touching them, before he was on to the next one. The background was zipping by so fast that they were all beginning to blur together.

A small frown marred his pale face as he increased his distance, the voice getting quieter and quieter the further away they were, until it deteriorated back into a small whimper. Gin's frown stayed in place.

Hastily, he left Kenpachi at the doorstep of his division barracks, the man cursing colorfully enough to make even the trees turn away. Gin ignored him without even glancing back, flash-stepping away again, the gust of wind he created blowing against his robes. The whimpering was getting softer now, turning into a mournful garble of raspy words.

Gin doesn't bother trying to understand. He doesn't even want to.

He couldn't help but remember how easy it was before all this. When there was only him, his sword, and the stepping stones all around.

At that time, he was just a foolish, cruel little boy, starving for something he didn't understand and scared shitless by every little thing Rangiku did. The emotions she could make him feel with just a simple brush of her hair against his skin, a happy smile, his name rolling on her tongue—it was all unfamiliar territory, one that he had never had any desire to explore.

Yet he had not been able to stay away either. Gin had not hated her for what she did to him. He couldn't and it had nearly drove him over the edge when he couldn't find a reason why. So, in a quotidian cowardly fashion, he had done the only thing he always knew how to do.

He ran. Desperately. Without speaking a word to her.

He locked himself inside Soul Society's white walls, drowning himself mercilessly in a kill or be killed world. And, oh, had he killed. He had killed and killed until there was nothing left to feel. Until there was nothing but a smile, and he was hungrier than ever before.

Reduced from a shadow of a human, to a shadow of a shadow. That was all he was, when Aizen had found him on the brink of destruction.

"_It's alright, I know. It's horrible, isn't it?" The man said kindly, though his eyes were anything but, "It can be hard. It can be so hard." _

To this day, Gin still could not understand why he had felt so relieved after hearing those words, even after falling into the hands of a man more wicked than himself.

But Aizen had been right, as he always tended to be. It was hard. Running from death was hard. Being constantly afraid was hard. Caring in general when he knew he didn't have to was just _too_ _hard._

And only an honorable man would've taken the hard way. Gin was not an honorable man.

_Bad boys go to Hell…dark, endless Hell…_

The voice said, raising above its own gibberish in a hesitant crescendo of seconds. Slits of glinting crimson appeared under silver locks of hair as he listened to it slowly fade away into nothingness.

_If ya weren't inside my head_, _I'd rip ya apart and paint with yer blood._

It was an unusually pleasing thought, that prodded at the hole inside him, filling it with a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. Gin's lips pulled back into a wanton, wanton grin, and without even noticing, stepped foot onto the Fifth Division roof. He was only there for a second more, before sprinting away.

He did not see the malicious brown eyes staring up at him from the courtyard.

In the sparkling waters of the lake, deep and blue and mysterious, the boy in the blade laughed and extended his white arms out, small cold hands sticky with warm blood.

* * *

"Taichou! Where are you? Taichou!" Kira called miserably, as he wandered around the division buildings, turquoise eyes scanning the area for any sign of a silver head or mocking grin.

There wasn't any. Of course there wouldn't be.

Kira sighed heavily and glanced up at the sky, now stained with a scarlet red and orange yellow. The sun was half a golden coin nestled on top of the horizon. Kira could feel his dismay rising at the sight.

His captain had dismissed them back to the division a while ago at the gate with a simple wave and a mean-spirited smile that could not have meant anything good. He hadn't asked, having the uncanny feeling that he really didn't need to know.

Kira had returned to the division obediently without another word. He had directed the training sessions, listened to reports, did the proper amount of paperwork for the corresponding day. He had done all his duties and then his captain's as well.

And even then, he had finished before it was dismissal time. Normally, Kira didn't like leaving early, because more than half of the time he was desperately trying to remain on schedule, usually because Gin rarely did his paperwork and had a tendency to run at the sight of it. Truth be told, he didn't have much to do beyond the office anyway, as sad as that was.

It was actually because of Renji.

Kira hadn't heard a word from his hot-headed friend since he and his captain had left to go find Rukia. Renji had chuckled a little then, said he was going to drag her back and yell at her for being so stupid, and tried to look away before Kira could catch the pained look in his eyes. Kira had not known what to say back then, had little to _nothing _to say back then.

And now, there was simply nothing at all.

Kira remembered the looks that Renji use to send Kuchiki Rukia. Words couldn't replace what he would lose once she was gone. He figured he'd take him bar-hopping, hold him when he finally got drunk enough to cry, and then wheel him home and pretend the whole thing never happened in the morning. If there was one thing he knew it was that people firmly believed inebriation muffled pain.

Not that he agreed, because alcohol has never helped him before, and he doesn't believe it ever will.

And when he had gone into the office to ask permission, he realized Gin still hadn't returned yet anyway. Thus, he was reduced to walking aimlessly around the division buildings calling for the man.

Unconsciously, Kira lifted his left hand to bite his thumb.

He knew he shouldn't be worried. It wasn't like it was unusual for his captain to be gone for hours at a time, sometimes days. Gin was an enigmatic man that Kira had learned long ago, could not be understood. He did what pleased him, ignored most of everything else, and followed his own wayward inclinations.

Unfortunately, Kira's mind tended to wander to strange places when he was under anxiety.

The memory of his captain the morning after the storm swam hungrily around in his mind. And although Gin had looked perfectly fine earlier, Kira couldn't stop the images that were coming into his head in rapid-fire.

"_What if his fever came back again? He could've tripped or fallen and got hurt."_

The thought of his captain laying somewhere in the dark, confused, injured and fever-stricken, made Kira's stomach roil with concern.

"I need to go find him," Kira mumbled nervously to himself, before all but sprinting down the corridor.

His footsteps padded swiftly across the wooden floorboards as a thorough blend of paranoia and worry began overtaking him. Each step he took, the memory seemed to come closer, until he could practically see the translucence of Gin's face, the rosy blush of his cheeks, the white-hotness of his fevered skin. He was nothing but a hollow version of the man he admired more than anyone else, with glazed, haunted crimson eyes.

Kira shook his head frantically, trying to shatter the image before his eyes. He slid slightly in his socks across the smooth floor, before managing to gain back his footing. Quickly, he turned a corner…

…and had just enough time to promptly smash straight into Toma's back.

The poor man let out a large yelp of surprise, before Kira's dead weight fell on top of him and they both crashed to the ground with a dull 'thud.' For a moment, there were no words to be said, as both of them groaned, the wind knocked out of them. And then, Kira realized he was pinning Toma down and one of his elbows was digging into his back.

"Toma-sanseki!" Kira exclaimed, scrambling to get off the other man, "I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going!"

As soon as he got to his feet, he extended a hand to help the third seat up.

"'S alright, Kira-fukutaichou. No harm done," Toma let out a wheezy laugh as he accepted his hand, "God, you sure can knock someone flat, sir."

Kira scratched his head lightly and laughed as well in embarrassment.

"If I may ask though, Kira-fukutaichou," Toma said curiously, once he had stood back up, "Where were you going in such a hurry?"

"I was headed toward the office," Kira replied, remembering Gin all over again, his embarrassment quickly returning into worry, "I'm looking for the captain."

There was a pause as Toma's eyes widened in shock.

"You don't know where Taichou is right now?"

"No, he told me we were to leave without him at the gate earlier," Kira felt his own curiosity rising despite himself, "Why? What's wrong?"

"Well," Toma looked uneasy, "we just received a mission about a hour ago."

Sticking his hand into his pocket, Toma slid out a white envelope. With a slight bow, he gave it to Kira who took it with a growing foreboding.

The kanji 'Three' and his captain's name were written on the front in neat and beautiful calligraphy. Kira raised an eyebrow at the meticulousness put into writing an address, but saw nothing unusual. Carefully, he turned the envelope over to see who the sender had been.

Almost immediately, he paled.

"What in the…?"

Right in the middle of the snow white paper was a large stamped 'Forty-Six' in blood red ink.

"It says that there is a Menos Grande nest down in the Living World." Toma offered shakily, kind of intimidated by the insignia, "We're suppose to exterminate them tonight and do a thorough search of the area for any other Hollows that could possibly evolve into Menos Grande."

"Menos Grande?" Kira repeated incredulously, "They haven't been seen in almost a hundred years. How did Central 46 even get this information?"

In his Academy days, Kira had only ever saw Menos Grande in his textbooks. Not very much information had been collected about them and the monstrosities had not been seen for so long that none of the younger shinigami had any idea of how to fight them or even what they looked like. To think that a whole nest could've formed right before their eyes—it was almost ridiculous.

"I can't be sure, sir," Toma shook his head in a helpless gesture, "I wasn't even aware that Central 46 could send people out on recons."

"Neither was I." Kira murmured, giving the envelope in his hand a bemused glance, before looking up at Toma, "We need to find the captain quickly."

Toma nodded, his expression serious.

"I'll go call the men from the barracks."

"Aw, there ain't gonna be any need fer that."

The lilting voice was approximately four inches away from his ear and for the first time since his first day, Kira welcomed the feeling of a borderline cardiac arrest. Toma let out another yelp and practically jumped ten feet into the air at the sudden presence of his captain.

"Taichou!" Kira said in relief, quickly spinning around and backing up a few steps, "We were just going to go look for you, sir."

A slender eyebrow arched in amusement.

"Somethin' happened?"

"Yes, sir," Kira nodded, "A mission from Central 46."

For a moment, a bemused expression replaced the smile and there was only silence. Then wordlessly, Gin stuck out a long slender hand, sending his lieutenant an expectant look. Almost automatically, Kira handed the envelope over to him.

With bony deft fingers, Gin unfolded the paper calmly, grin firmly in place. As he read, Kira couldn't help but sweep his eyes over his captain in utter relief. He seemed fine. It looked like his captain really wasn't ill anymore.

_Thank God_, he thought, as the memories slowly faded away.

"Hyaa, Menos Grande huh?" Gin whistled lightly, as he folded the paper back up, "Can't remember the last time I fought one o' those. And there's a family of 'em this time too."

"You've fought Menos Grande before, Taichou?" Toma said, admiration practically dripping from his words.

"Only back in my fukutaichou days," Gin said airily, like it wasn't even worth mentioning, though Kira supposed to him, it really wasn't.

Suddenly, an alarming grin spread across his captain's face, "Y'know, I think it killed my whole squad 'fore I could get rid o' it."

Gin tapped his chin thoughtfully as if reliving the moment, "Aizen-taichou hadn't been too happy 'bout that."

Toma had rapidly turned pale as he swallowed loudly. Kira had to keep himself from sighing. He knew his captain loved to tease, but the man could just be cruel at times.

"How many men do you think we should take sir?" he interrupted gently, "Should we take all four squads?"

There was a moment of silence, as his captain simply scrutinized the insignia on the paper. Then silently, he looked towards Kira.

The grin on his face chilling him to the bone.

"One," he said, practically in sing-song, "Bring one squad fer the search."

"The search?" Kira repeated, wondering if he'd heard right, "What about the Menos Grande?"

From slightly behind him, Toma swallowed again.

Gin cocked his head slightly to one side, one silver eyebrow raised, "Are ya gonna be questioning my orders, Izuru?"

"Of course not!" Kira shook his head violently in horror, "I would never question your authority, Taichou!"

"Good boy," Gin cooed, his voice cold with hidden power, "No need fer ya ta worry 'bout the Menos Grandes anyway. Jus' do what I tell ya and you'll live ta see tomorrow."

Kira nodded quickly, "Yes sir."

He could hear Toma from behind, mumble a weak confirmation as well.

The grin was sharp and vicious, ready for blood and slaughter. There was nothing reassuring about that smile at all. And for a moment, Kira entertained the thought that maybe his captain wasn't as fine as he'd thought he was. Maybe something had happened after all.

But he crushed it a second later, tired of his imagination and the stress it's caused him.

To say his captain smiled a lot was the understatement of the century. His captain grinning nastily before battle wasn't anything strange. His captain was always grinning, and it had never been very kind to begin with. _There was nothing to worry about…_

From underneath glossy silver bangs, cold crimson eyes cracked open in slits, a feral hunger within that sent Kira's heart leaping into his throat.

…_right? _

_

* * *

  
_

"**Hunger steals the memory."**

**Louise Erdrich**


End file.
